Moon-faced man

Where the clouds are made of silver,

and the horizon anchor

storm winds stretch out.

There could nights

the correct moon phase

time, I think the sky

spell, moon face

man's magic.

Almost confessing it

a century of love.

heavenly bodies

sometimes it gets to dance,

the Aurora borealis sun

turbulent dance

bows.

Do not cry, mother earth, as

I I spin into yarn

Tampering with the moonlight,

cloud some soft sheep

wool. I still have

one possibility

be it the one and only.

Among the thousands

are begging for your love

moon-faced man.