Silver

Silver
Was the moon.
Not black,
Like my sighs
Or blue,
Like my child’s eyes.
Silver
Was the moon,
And I touched its surface
Gently,
Slowly,
Caressing its every crack
Like a tombstone
Where a loved one lay.
Silver
Was the moon
And the people
To it prayed,
For life, they begged.
For death, we beg.
And we yell
And curse
And scream
And cry
And one night
For the first and last time,
I saw
That it was
Silver.