Roses On The Moon Poem by Phil Capitano

ROSES ON THE MOON

Midnight tickles your turned-up toes,
dawn scrapes your knees
but your head is already in daylight
kissing the setting sun and not me.
The scent of musk and the north woods
spark a scene then the rush…
don't believe everything whispered
under a sage moon.
Memory is the landscape,
longing the river that meanders
like a lost child in dream.
The waters lead to dried riverbeds
and forgotten photographs, flotsam
on the once raging river.
Suddenly I find myself nowhere
making sunshine out of oranges,
searching for roses on the moon.