Moonchild

"She's beautiful!" They say.

"Unique in every way.

A soother of all weary hearts that travel by her way."

"I'm nothing!" She cried,

tear soaked, red eyed.

"I'm ugly and I'm fat,

I have no tolerance.

These spots on my face won't fade away,

and if they do I'll be old and gray."

"The craters on her face,

caverns in her youthful age.

Plump and elite,

makes her such a merry treat.

With justice she serves,

like a gavel in the sky.

A mighty force to reckon with,

a juniper of life."

The mother pats her pain worn child, a smile on her face.

For she knew, what she didn't know,

this girl was made for grace.

"Look up there, beyond your mourning tower,

out your bedroom window at the nighttime flower.

Stare at the moon while she stares at you,

both as one,

through the gloom.

Outwards appearances, they aren't much.

What you have,

it's more than luck.

You're both protectors,

watchers over all.

She's glorious, don't you think?

The marks just make her special.

When I look at you I think of the moon,

untamed and unsettled.

So many days ahead, so many nights behind.

But do you know what you have that she doesn't find?

A heart as pure as gold, a sun to bring the light.

My dear, my dear, my lovely little girl.

You are better than the moon.

And, if the moon is beautiful,

than what pray tell, are you?

That is why you leave them silent,

all with nothing to say.

Because words cannot describe the brillance of you,

every ravishing day."

Copyright: KJ HEIER