Pink Moon

The air is abuzz with longing too heavy to hold
The same canopy of Copper Cods bright like gold
And tiny rivulets flowing down my back.
Even then, the days are alright, busy and bearable
But the sorrow of a sunset brings me down.
Tell me what to do with all the empty minutes
And the disarray that you left behind
How do I tidy it up?
Beneath the sky of a warm and tender evening
As the summer breeze comes through
My only solace comes from knowing
You are gazing at the Pink moon too.

~

Let us clutch at the tiniest consolations and find a way to smile. I cannot stress how rare, yet necessary connection is. Devoid of such attachments, all that we are left with is a vacuum.

Gazing at the moon and listening to Sinatra tonight, because the apartment building is sealed and I am trapped, when all I want is to fly to the moon. In other words…