"she spent the summer away from the sun
said she couldn't stand the glare anymore
summer's done
it was no fun
no one knows what she's crying for
the moon will be her best friend
and will talk to her when she can't sleep
insomnia set in
again, when
instead of dreams she has moonbeams
her life is a contradiction
all she needs is a new addiction
she knows it's a shame to discard dreams
but, the sun burns
and she longs to be pale like the moonlight"
for your reading enjoyment - i know i enjoyed running across it again. "instead of dreams, she has moonbeams" made me laugh out loud. people should write poetry for the simple fact that naturally it will be put away or lost for awhile and then found one day, read again, and they will be reminded of how wacky they really are.
i think i wrote this poem several weeks after i returned from my summer at governor's school. i'm still trying to interpret it. i'm not sure that it's possible.
i'm still trying to figure it out myself.
ReplyDeletei like the moonbeams though.