My lady Luna

Thank you, my dear,
for so many things.

For brightening the night
and lighting our way
even if you sometimes
like to wander away.

For your fickle tug
upon the salty deep
that rouses all the rolling waves
that oft sing me to sleep.

For all the inspiration
to all those songs and art
which eased my weary mind
and soothed my wounded heart.

For the silver shimmer
that lights our lover’s skin
adding a touch of grace
to quite the night of sin.

For all these things and more
you, dear Luna, I adore.

The crimson moon

I saw it shining red
and slowing rising high,
an open wound that bled
up into the sky.

Some took it as a portent
of impending doom
and they, howling, went
off into the gloom.

Others were also disturbed
by the shining, sanguine sign
but their fears were curbed;
they knew things would be fine.

But only one of these is right –
perhaps you’ll find that answer tonight.


There in the land of the moon
the night always ends too soon.
They treasure their delights
until the morning lights
and then promptly sleep ‘til noon.


Your gentle touch, the swell of your hip,
and your evening companionship.
Oh my sweet lover, joy of my night,
you make my life maddeningly bright!