Out in the garden the moon laughs softly, telling me it's time to sleep- but that he likes my company anyway.
The moon and I are good friends you see & he misses my companionship when it's cloudy.
He tells me that I'm beautiful, my friend the moon & that he knows all my secrets.
From where he sits he can see way off into the future & he loves me because there is so much that I am yet to do.
He tells me that I will be happy & that no matter what, he will always be there for me- just beyond the sun- to rock me to sleep & to share my dreams with, even when it's raining.
I like him because he doesn't crowd me in my life. He just listens & shares, shedding light on the beautiful things in the evening with his silver fingers- lovingly caressing all that I neglected to notice in the daylight.
He is gentle & soft, patient & kind.
He is a little boy lost who will never grow up.
He is the moon.
My moon, my friend.
My lifetime measure in four phases.
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