SEVEN MOONS

Up the mountains,

Where moons kiss,

Where clouds bounced on juicy rock,

For seven aching lights i but watched,

Leaves shade the face that caused Jupiter to smile,

The glitter washed by pale waters,

Rushing against shore thoughts,

Soaked in honey comb sand



Waves carrying the dream song,

Fading in the echo of memories,

Crippled; wrapped in a colorful gift box,

Like the skeleton whose shadow bears flesh

Words martyred in the altar of pure salts,

The soils we treaded upon fumble beneath the laughs of the tongue silent.



Times gay traded for a perfect gown,

That perhaps the onlooker might find ebony in dying bliss,

For seven moons I stood at the shore line,

She stood next to me,

I gazed at the reflection of the moon upon the waters,

All she saw was her reflection,

It is then true,

You can’t take someone where you have been not