Pink Full Moon Poem by James McLain

The tide moves slowly in and out,
A silken breath, a whispered doubt.
The moon, from white to tender pink,
Dips low to touch the ocean's brink.

Moist stretching sands, a quiet ache,
The earth and sky begin to wake.
Eyes that open wide, yet cannot see,
A death like this I've longed to see.

The silver night, its soft embrace,
Reflects no shadow, leaves no trace.
A life dissolved in endless streams,
A soul adrift in quiet dreams.

No cry of anguish, no despair,
Just moonlit tides that kiss the air.
To fade as stars dissolve in light,
A gentle passing into night.

Oh, let me go as waters flow,
Unbound, unseen, to realms unknown.
The moon turns pink, then pale, then white,
Its beauty waning with the night.

A death so soft, a love so true,
The tide moves on, as tides must do.
And I, a whisper, lost, set free—
A death like this I drempt, I see in sleep.