The Moon

Locked out and alone my mind wandered free

There was no light out there but still ‘the moon’ I mused ,how it may appear to be

Deprived of sight I wondered how, it looked to those who can see

It has always been there for I don’t know how long

With its glow so brilliant and its impact so strong

Is it  guardian of dreams or a white balloon

or does it look like a heap of rice on a small spoon

Some describe you like the granny’s spool

On which she made threads of cotton and sheep’s wool

Or is it beautiful  like a dame’s face

enchanting hearts with that glow, that grace

A hunk of cheese or a ice cream scoop

for the little comet passing through the stars troupe

How it seems I don’t know

Like a young boy’s hat or the little girl’s toe

Do you twinkle. Like the stars they say

 Like a soccer or pot of clay

Like a seer’s orb is what some claim

Which I have never seen so for me its just another name

Other believe it is like a bulb of light

I am sure that would mean something to those with the gift of sight

Some call you the bringer of life in myths

And few describe you as the deaths soul scythe

Poet define you as hope and the angel in tales

I still can’t calculate its beyond my scales

How do you look I wanna know soon

And to look at you not like anything but just The Moon🌑🌕

~Ishwar Atre


2 thoughts on “The Moon

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