Hanging the Moon

It’s been one of those seasons of quiet despair,
I could hang the moon painted over your skies –
keep you company, even when nobody’s there,
throw her silver keys gently into your eyes.

Take me sailing again down the rivers of summer,
all the way to the ocean, the islands of South,
with the firelight dancing and licking our shadows,
and the taste of the universe still in your mouth.

Fields of blueberry darkness that cling to your shoulders.
Carolina magnolias, spreading their glow,
with the perfume of longing as evenings grow colder –
things that only the moon and her silences know…

I am hanging the moon over trees thinking winter,
while the memories scatter gold leaves to the wind.
Take a walk on the beach, gather moments that drifted
deeper into the currents, and bring them back in.

It’s been one of those seasons of quiet despair,
I could hang the moon painted over your skies –
keep you company, even when nobody’s there,
throw her silver keys gently into your eyes.

Diana Stefanova

Дарение за нов албум на Пламен Сивов

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