Lamenting Over Childish Fascination

In my childhood days,
I was fascinated
with the moon.
Seemed to me animated.

Seemed to me crying.
Seemed to me laughing.
Became angry
and gnawing.

When everyone was in deep sleep,
she peeped through my window
and smiled at me
with her ever-shining glow.

Sometimes she hid her face
behind a curtain.
When she would cast away curtain,
it was really uncertain!

Now my moon doesn't peep
rather I search her.
Find her less romantic,
more prosaic and afar.