The Moon

African - American poet

Peeking from the curtains of light
 Stands a small existence
known as the moon
No one knows its even there
 For the shy one has no spot
 In the domain of the great bright Sun

 But when the light leaves
 A cold lonely darkness wakes
and Illuminating from the sky
Will be the Mystical Moon
Waning and waxing over the years
 in a different form when It's seen
 Always bright until it’s life is
Born anew in its dark form
 But keeping its beauty and job
Protecting our land
 from A cold dark wasteland
From which we were born