The Moon (A Poem)
Under the bright orb
Of a full Moon
A girl sits
Her eyes lifting to that brightness
Body trembling, softly
Lips part in a gentle sigh
She rises
Gaze lowering to her feet
They are bare –
And slide across the grass
Moving like that of a Ghost
But she is very much alive.
Stopping…
Turning…
Face upturn –
Wet moisture sliding
Trembling…
Shaking…
Shivering…
That rounded item seeking
Boring into her mind
Like the Brainsucker
She knows and allows
Arms lift, chest heaving
TAKE ME!
Screamed in silent communication
Nothing returned
Only the pulsing light of the Moon
Does it laugh at her?
Mock her?
Back to her knees she falls…
And fall…
And fall…
Seemingly into nothingness
As the Moon sits on high
Shining down upon her
