by Eric Y. Theriault

The moonlight
weeds through the trees,
and through my window,
it leaks.
Perhaps it doesn't realize,
that my old sleepy eyes
need not more distraction this night.
My day has been long,
and in this world,
I surely don't belong.
But night after night,
it creeps in,
maybe as a friendly "hello";
But I never appreciate,
its long, hard journey,
especially not tonight.

Perhaps it means no harm,
and really it visits me
for someone in the world thinks of me
this night.
But I am not sure,
and their voice surely be better this night,
But as the clock continues to tick,
there is no one beyond my door,
and my phone still silent.
I cannot help but ponder,
who they are,
who thinks that I am so great,
as to share this moon with me tonight.
Ahh, they are soo thoughtful,
I could never repay,
perhaps tomorrow eve,
we could share it together instead,
and tonight,
I could return to my bed.