Don’t Ask The Moon

Don’t Ask The Moon

I wrote a song the other day, and gave it to the moon. In hopes she’d read it over and whisper me the tune.

“Oh darling girl”, she said to me, “Your words are out of sorts, I can’t gift you a melody when your heart is bound in knots.”

“I can give you moonlight, and cosmic dreams galore. But your hearts desire can’t come from me, don’t ask me anymore.”

I took my song just yesterday and gave it to the sun. With a yawning smile he closed his eyes and sang a slow wee hum.

“My darling girl” he said to me, this isn’t any use. Your heart has lost its beat you see, it’s had too much abuse ”.

Music doesn’t come from searching outside in the dark. Look within to find  it, you should maybe ask your heart.

So I took my song this morning, and tried to find my heart.

T’was engulfed in flames and clotted blood.

Like a dreadful piece of art.

“My darling girl”, she sobbed at me. Please tell me that we’re done. How many times must you squeeze me dry? This isn’t any fun.

I cleaned her up as best I could, and showered her with praise. Her beat restarted readily, but her wistful eyes were glazed.

“Remember when we danced til dawn and sang of hope and grace? Why did it come to an another end? I hate this awful place”

I lulled her into slumber, and let her rest once more. I asked the moon and sun to help her heal her open sores.

And I took my selfish little song, and burned it ‘neath the moon. My broken heart can’t catch it’s breath to whisper me the tune.

Kelly Buchan 2021 ©