Sadly, I have not set by enough time for writing the last couple of weeks, therefore, I thought I would re-post one of my pieces from 2015. Hopefully, at some point I will get round to writing part two.
The man in the moon
The evil witch jealous of our love cursed you to a life on the moon. I caught a glimpse of you while you looked down in the light of its silvery halo. I wanted to hold you one more time and play with your soulful mind. And then you were gone as dark clouds of the night obscured my view of you.
Unshackling the chains of my earthly bonds I climbed the tallest tree. The lunar light back lit the cloud showing off its silvery lining. I heard you cry from way up high, a silvery thread has come lose you can catch it as the cloud sails by.
Nearer and nearer drifted the cloud as the thread unravelled to the ground. But to my dismay the dark witch of the night started sewing with all her might. A gust of wind blew the cloud away as the dark witch made her final stitch. I could see a tear in the corner of your eye as you slowly came back into view, I sat in the top of the old oak tree my heart aching, Oh what can I do.
From the bough of the old oak a deep voice spoke, you once saved me from the woodman’s axe. To you, my dues I shall pay now climb onto my broad green leaf. A little unsure I held on tight as the night sky kept changing hues. With a shiver of his trunk the old oak said, good luck and fare thee well.
How the wind blue and carried me away. Up and up, swirling around right up to the stars I flew. You reached out clasping my hand and pulled me into the white light of the silvery moon.
We skipped and danced upon the dusty ground, and then I looked and found I was alone. I crawled to the edge and saw you on the leaf floating all the way back down to home. To break the curse, you had to return to earth and seek the white witch who dwells in the Spring Lands. For she alone would cast her spell and send the evil curse down to the depths of hell.
But meanwhile on a bright night if you look to the skies in June, you may just see a rugged face. For now; I am the man in the moon.
Linked to Poets United, Sunday Pantry