At The Top Of The Hill... Poem by jeff has

At the top of the hill
on the end of my street I would sit,
And the gibbous moon
would snuggle to my neck
while resting on my shoulder
A laughing companion
painting my summer
with orange, buttery light
Ahhhh...
But, all moons turn
and all seasons change
like a luminous balloon
She has floated high
into the skies dome
Where she sits
Smaller
Paler
Dimmer
Looking away quietly, yet,
no less beautiful
For all of its lonesome grace
i can only beckon to her
My shouts are lost
in the starry night
Wondering if her attention
will rest on my hill
Ever again…
I wait,
For the seasons to turn…