Robert Fulton Laird

Pretty Moon

Never seen an atom,
but, heard that it was so—
felt the moon had heart,
unlike the atom, was told no.

Sad, to hear it, nothing—
glad to know it’s more,
than can be proved
by those much smarter,
as I ponder, they explore.

Oh pretty moon, can you be mine—
since you, I do adore?
although the day does hide you,
still, it’s you my thoughts are for.

At night, moonlight’s really sunlight,
so it’s said, but I don’t care—
why would some dilute such wonder
when I’m just glad you’re even there.

Please ignore all this commotion,
for you are still a pretty sight—
sun and beauty would be gone
if not for you up there, at night.

Yes, I’ll be here for awhile,
actually, where else can I go?
maybe, I could hide from view,
but like you, my love would still show.

So, each day, you’ll see my smile—
come dark, I’ll see your lovely face—
and when we’re neither one, apparent,
we’ll meet in that special place.

Too real, for bribes of time—
too simple, for a "Why?"—
deserving more respect than many
perfect days gone by..