Riding
high on a bank of clouds the moon
looked
down on earth and wept for
all
the silly things left undone between
all
the milling people on the run in too
much
of a hurry to stop and gaze up
How many chances had been taken and
how
may chances had been missed
beneath
the gaze of the moon while
the
moon looked down and wept
What words should be spoken and promises
left
unbroken while the moon rides high
in
the midnight sky in wonder at all
that's
left undone by people on the run
Faster
creeps the petty pace each
thinking
that life's a race to beat
the
clock that times us all as we
forge
our way towards destiny's call
The
moon looks down in
bemusement
at all the lives and
loves
passed unspent in gazing up
in
awe at what the heavens hold
Another
bank of clouds roll by
and
the moon turns with a weary
eye
away from the haste existing
there
and catches a ride to elsewhere.
Copyright: 5 June
1998
S. Michele LeBoutillier