A Short Song To The Moon

You watch me weep and hear me roar
You bear me when I’ve been a bore
Observe me as I prowl and poach
With patience and without reproach
You cast those shadows on my bed
And cast the nonsense from my head
You guide me when I’ve been marooned
And still the sting of every wound
Oh, my dear old Selene
So bright and whole and serene:
Who needs the troubles of love
When you’re still glowing above?