On a dull Autumn evening,

I sit on my rocking chair,

In the warmth of my house,

Lost in thoughts,

When the reverie is broken,

By a gentle knock on the window……

I open it a bit,

And the Moon sneaks in,

A blob of jelly,

Tired and crestfallen,

Pale and yellow,

Smothered in dust and haze,

Smoke and fumes,

Insignificant in the star spangled cosmos…….

But as the hours go by,

Bathed in milk,

The duckling becomes a swan,

Fresh and confident,

It’s mystique restored,

Resplendent as a diva,

A million poets’ muse,

Rising to its apogee ………

Till dawn comes,

On the crest of the ascendant Sun,

And the Moon melts,

Slowly, ever so slowly,

A drop of dew on the petal of a rose,

Over the horizon,

A Prima Donna in decline,

Shunned from the arc lights,

Its aura diminished……..

But we know,

That the Moon is different,

It will rise, again, and again,

The next night, and the next,

Ever so beautiful,

Ever so peaceful,

Ever so reassuring……