Your Art & Poetry

[hollidaii.xa]

There was a boy who fell for the moon, he called to her every night.
Each day he would go and play; but never be out past light
praying his love would be home soon.
No matter the day, no matter the plans - he’d always be in his room.
He’d wait at his window till he saw her rise; his giant love in the sky.
He’d wait all night without a word; his love left unreturned.
Sadly he’d wait ‘till she left his sights before he’d say goodnight.
He’d then crawl in bed just to do it again, to win his love the moon.

There was a man who fell for the moon, he called to her every night.
He had no wife, he had no job - just his love the moon.
His life was spent at his windowsill trying to reach the stars.
He had no luck with his love; as she had no love to spare.
In his chair he’d wait all day with nothing but his hope.
His day was made when sun would leave and bring him the mighty moon.
And all night long he’d cry for her –  still no answer from his one.
And once again she leaves for sleep without his love returned. 
Heart in hand he’d crawl in bed just to do it again, to win his love the moon.

There was an old man who fell for the moon, he called to her every night.
He had’t much time, yet still he sat in his room for his love would be home soon.
He had sat so long he withered away; he love still unreturned.
He held no anger towards the one he had loved for so long.
He called out to her for the last time as she slipped away.
I’ll love you he cried as the sun hit his eyes, he’d never see his love again.
He slowly crawled back to bed, for he’ll always have his love the moon.