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.
April
2015
Linked to Poets United, Sunday Pantry
