High Moon

A. Christine Myers
1 min readDec 4, 2019
Photo by David Dibert on Unsplash

The high moon in a hard sky
Deep black with just a touch of blue,
Remembrance of forgotten hate
In your unpeopled world,
Fading the stars about you —
The million, million stars —
Till you alone remain.
And my heart beats, nervous
Underneath your never-passioned gaze,
Sharp memory of pain.
And yet I soften, moon —
That hatred was not yours;
It is but your brightness
Floods the winter sky,
And little stars
Peer out behind your back.
No, you were kind, dear friend,
And met me night by night,
Our secret visits
Comforted the pain.
Tonight I was but startled;
Such a sad mistake
To take your peaceful face
For one which I have fled.
I do not flee you, friend;
Forgive my moment’s fears
And shine amid
The deepness of the night.