In the old astrological zodiac, I was born a Cancer (or Moon Child). I am not sure what I am under the new zodiac (read crap) they are now talking about, and I do not care, because I have always identified with the moon. I am a night owl and make many, many references to the moon. Sometimes, through the magic of transference, I trade places with the moon . . . and I write poetry from its point of view. Such a result is the free verse, Moonlight.
by Mike Patrick
The moonlight steals across your bed and lightly kisses your lips.
Softly moving down, it caresses your throat.
Your eyes open and the moon drinks them in,
Watching as it builds shadows across your skin.
Moonlight: cooling, soothing; washing away the day’s heat.
Lingering on the tangled sheets;
Hating to leave your side,
Inch by inch it retreats.
The moonlight ignores the breeze that pushes past the window.
It ignores the way the breeze brushes your hair.
Jealous of the time after it must set,
Because the breeze gets to linger there.
The curtains dance for you in the evening air.
Still lit by the moon, they rejoice.
Casting shadows that reach out for you
Until the moon fades away weeping.
Moonlight waits for tomorrow’s return.
Waiting to hold you in its spell.
Waiting to touch your lips and caress your throat.
Waiting to see your eyes glow in its light.