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Mourning Moon


Why do people love me when I am at the zenith?
Why do they like my resplendent, radiant colour?
Why are they impressed by my iridescent and incandescent form?
Why do they always appreciate my serenity?
Why do they love me at my high?
But …
When I say farewell to my fellows
Why do people forget my crepuscular?
Why don’t they pay heed to my lullaby?
Why do their feelings change all of a sudden?
Why do they remember me in short shrift?
I feel that I’ve fallen from grace
And
Woe is to me in the end HH



 

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