The harvest Moon.

The harvest moon.

I look out my window and can see a bright orange harvest moon. It indicates that I'll be seeing you soon. Your beauty is like the golden wheat in a cool summer breeze. I smell your scent on my sleeve. You are the wheat, and I am the reaper. I'm the keeper of beautiful young things, so let me go a little deeper so you can see. However, you are not ready to be taken. You are still a maiden. You are like a flower garden, but the showers prevent me from entering. You have the power to make it rain or cause me pain. But I know in my heart that it's all in vain. I have nothing left to gain. So here I remain.