The Sun, The Moon, And You
The Sun, The Moon, And You…!
Sometimes, when I go to bed at night,
I look for the sun outside my window.
I search, not because I fear the darkness,
Nor because I dislike the night.
I love the moon, because she is cold,
The warmth of the sun I couldn't care for.
Yet, I open the blinds, and I check
To see if it's visible in the darkness.
Maybe it's out there, but I cannot see.
Sometimes, when I read a poem
I search for a pattern in the words.
The meaning is lost upon me,
And the meter runs its own time.
My eyes feel the coldness of the verse,
The rhyme or reason I couldn't care for.
Yet, I touch the pages, and I check
To see if you are visible in the ink.
Maybe you're out there, but I cannot see
Sometimes, when I tell a story
I hide my feelings behind the words.
I hide not because I cannot feel,
Nor because I fear their expression.
There is a coldness in my heart I preserve,
Lest my emotions thaw and flow.
I say my tale, and I thrill my audience
And stare in their eyes to see their joy.
Maybe I'm standing right there, but they cannot see.