Talking to the Moon

The speaker is sitting under the moon, feeling comforted by its presence. They reminisce about a past love and express their loneliness. They find solace in talking to the moon, feeling its healing aura. They hope that the moon will guide them towards a new love. She sits in silence, nestled in a blanket of starlight. Casting her benevolent eye upon me, Reckoning me as if to say, I'm listening. Her soft, soothing glow embraces me, I feel her comforting rays like gentle fingers, Caressing my troubled, weary mind. Mistress Moon, can you feel my pain? I whisper. Pour your radiance upon me, fill me with wonder once again. Her very presence arouses memories of yesterday, When my life blossomed under his love, In the sweet balmy summer air of midnight, Under the seductive spell of her captivating countenance. Now my heart confesses to my clandestine confidence, My deep disfellation of being without him, My mournful sighs drift on the playful breeze, Like tumblebeads weaving wildly in the wind, all alone. So, here I sit, talking to the moon, Lost in my lonely reverie of what once was. Yet, warmed by her luminescence, I bask in comforting camaraderie. Her healing aura enfolds me with hope, My words tumble out like a waterfall of woe, Cleansing the solid stains upon my soul. The path before me calls, as she lights the way, So I may tread it, leading to a new lover's arms. Who knows? © transcript Emily Beynon