Moon's Tale

A poem

If I stopped to ever wonder why:
could meadows spring
from darkened holds?
The stars and sun would soon retreat,
to let you make all into icy-golds.

How much desire have you seen,
or heard curses thrown?
Mutters of what might have been,
and lovers beat about—
their loves still unknown.

The cactus in the Sonoran-scape,
drinks upon your snow-fallen cape.
And all things sweet in forests kept,
have known your glow
to which they softly slept.

For so long you have loved me;
mine was indifferent care.
But were you to disappear
or fall out from the sky,
I would wish to know you more,
or see you one last time.

When all deserts me
and time has told me so;
when faces I was once fond of
faded long ago,
I would wish to hear your tales
and fall asleep beneath the snow.