The Moon

Hey everyone! I wrote this last night and thought I would share it. :D
Its an essay sort of thing. :P
So here it goes. I call it "The Moon."


The Moon:

The moon's light is pure and beautiful.
But each and every morning it must leave.
What does it leave behind? Only a faded memory.
I grasp on to it ever so tightly but it soon may be forgotten.
At night, when the sun hides its face, I whisper my pain to the moon.
It listens and is willing to smile upon me.
Unlike the people in life, no matter how much I mess up the smile will never fade from its face.
If only the moon could talk back and comfort me.
As tears roll down my face I try to understand why.
My tears fall on the city streets.
I look upon the people. They do not see.
They do not stop to see the beauty of the moon.
If they could see it like I see it we would all be in a state of comatose.
Most people refer to the stars as diamonds, I see the moon as the eye of God shining on a desolate world.
A light in the darkest of times, used to guide the people.
A sure sign of hope that more light is coming.
In the morning.



Thanks for reading. (:
Kirstie.