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A crescent spark high in the sky,

is simply a fragment of the doom behind.

Behind dark layers of tranquil sleep,

stares a malice; so smooth, so sleek.

It laughs a bit with star-lit eyes,

at foolish lovers and passer-bys.

You see, they glance up to the night,

and think how lovely, it is, that shine.

It looks so humble, so meek and gay,

it's a joyous occasion to see such an array.

The moon just smile to herself,

up in her tower, away from all else.

She knows what power is beneath her shell,

fully exposed and she's suddenly hell.

So a full moon fearlessly waits,

underneath her covers for another day.

Copyright KJ Heier, 2011.