The moon is weary
her silver thinning
as the dark reclaims her
but I do not grieve
for I know that even endings
can be luminous
even the last curve of light
is enough to guide a soul home
she is slowly vanishing
behind her veils of shadows
but I still hold her within me
for I have the soul of a selenophile
I understand the cycles of the moon
not absence, but promise
not farewell, but return
and she leans toward me
as if to confide a secret
and she whispers softly
‘that not all light can be kept forever
even I am not light
for I am only a reflection’
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 