Phillip Nine Mafunga

The Sliver Of Moon

The tall young man walked down the quiet street in the evening cool
Could have just been a fool
To believe thieves on the ruling stool
Would put goodies on the spool
Only to be left to drool

As he walked down the street under the clear quarter moon
His mind wound up in the loon
Seemingly so far- fetched, to us a boon
His entire attention caught by the silent voice of the moon
Whose energies caused his courage to balloon

The young man kept on walking wondering at the make-up of the moon
Everything seeming not to make sense, not even the spoon
For riches, seem only reserved for the goon
He thought hard for what seemed like a whole afternoon
He turned into his gate: staggering like one from the saloon.
25 October 2020

Topic(s) of this poem: mood

Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 25, 2020

Form: Allegory

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