The Waiting
The Moon Man's face hides 'neath a shroud of heavenly gloom as helplessly
he floats behind his beard so black in a sea of ether and naught. A mist
so frigid as to chill my very soul drifts inward and darkness spills across
the land. I make ready myself for a mid-winter's snowfall and yearn for
the touch of her hand. Ever my love she be and yet I shall see her in nary
a fortnight. Alas, to a fool in the stocks of love, a day is as a year.
And when the grips of love eternal take thee and hold thee, a lifetime
is but a fleeting moment. Her love is so warm and inviting, yet this night
the coldness bites and stings. She is the light in my darkened skies and
the wine that is my blood. Taketh me, my love and cast this night aside
for all of eternity.
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