The moon wears a veil of silver lament,
Spinning slow in a waltz with the tides.
She hums in the hush where the lovers sweat, drunk on the night with memories gone blind.

The sky is a stage and she plays all her parts, the maiden, then mother, then ghost in a haze.
Just a lover, a liar, a thief of lost hearts, watching us burn in the blue of our days.

But time is a tide and she's just the moon, pulling and fading then full once again.
A clock with no hands just cycles round noon
A carousel turning where times always thin.

She whispers in echoes of centuries past
Soft as a prayer, a glow to soak in
Lovers dance beneath not knowing she's where time began.