The Palest Moon

The wind blows his hair around her
Like a long, black silken cord,
His shadow is prevailing
and through the dark she soars.

If his eyes could only see her
as she sails past his soul,
The palest of all moons
has surrendered evermore.

And as his sun is setting
and the stars come out to play,
He senses someone's there
Someone who's never been away...

Within his distant shadow
shines a sliver of her moon;

Too pale to be brilliant
Too late...
And too soon.