by A. Gagliardi

 I wanted the moon to fill up the night

like a presence we couldn’t ignore,

to shine bright as day in the dark quiet air

like’s  been told in stories of yore.

I wanted the harvest moon rising

poetically over a hill.

But, I got a sliver of somebody’s nail

in a vast  night-darkened shill.

Alas, tis the day and the tale needs a tell

there’s something to say & I should

though the moonlight last night was not a bit right,

but, I can’t speak a lie if I would.

So, I’ll tell of the dark and the failing moon too;

I’ll focus on darkness instead of the blue,

and ghoulishly goblins will dance a sweet jig

with the single white shaft of dew.