Me too : )

[sillifluous]

I have been observing poetry being created by a budding poet.
A fun process - tossing around random ideas and tweaking
memories and emotions until a simple phrase or unconscious
remark becomes a starting point for a poem. Once begun, it is
written quite effortlessly. Reading poems fresh from the pen is
delightful !!

Writing poetry must be infectious. Having read  "The Moonsong" I felt
 "Me too" : ). I had about six minutes to write a poem for I was
in the middle of some work. I went ahead nevertheless.

Why do you wane, O moon

Only to wax again?

You free me from your lustrous spell

Gradually withdraw your maddening influence

Till you disappear and the dark sky offers a respite

To a mind that revolved around your luminescence.

Then inexplicably you reappear.

First, a tiny crescent

Invisible except to the yearning heart.

Then slowly, inexorably you wax.

Fixing my gaze on your pearly orb

I see little else but your growing power

Over my emotions.

Till one day, intoxicated with your fullness

I forget that you shall again begin to wane.

Why do you wax, O moon,

Only to wane again?
it is, unedited and unrevised.