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~Straining to Paint the Moon

Quiet feet walk slow on the lamp-lit streets–

Oblivious faces passing help
to light the night.
A darkened sea calls
to me, please
drop me at the door to her heart or
please, please set me free!

Secrets hide so well, even in the shining city.

Can you tell me Ms. Love how to
ease me of your ache?

I curled up and shivered
beneath the old cherry tree
with the lofty arms,
with the haunted silhouette
straining to paint the moon.

Last night I left my finest ode to rhyme
with my blue eyes falling
upon her mouth
in the black shellac frame.

Her cold hands clutched my heart
cruelly like a dying bouquet of serendipity
as the morning sun engulfed the
lamp-lit streets.