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.