A.W. Books & Poetry

Your glistening, glinting, maternal face

Looks over a midnight, ghost town

Full and bright,

Porous and light

Dusting the ground in silvery powder,

Though you may be too far to see,

Your reflection on the pond’s crystal dermis,

Or your illumination amongst the heavenly spheres,

Each night, in awe, each mortal soul stares up at you with thrice the glee as you do peering down at me.

-Annalise