I’ve never seen a naked sky,
without a cloud, to please the eye
Like eyes from heaven down
Fading and sparkling as if either grin or frown
“What has been created?”
Says the romantic to the cynic mind,
“That could out do the beauty of the night sky”
“nothing”, is the cynic’s stern reply
Yet the moon shines alongside the stars
the clouds beneath her like a barge
taking her to the heavens
and by the speed of light setting her right again
“If not the moon” the romantic grins,
“I’d surely like to see, what such a thing might be”
The cynic knew of one
Her face, her name time could not shun
Her passion like flowers were complemented by her beauty
The vase, her beauty, hid her poison thorns
Men, with their foolish eyes, enhance her splendor
Entranced at her, like flies to a trap
The cynic remembered well
of the wonderful gift that somehow fell into his lap
Until on his shoulder there was a slight tap
Then he realized something so fine was meant for another
She considered him an unworthy lover
and like that
the romantic became a cynic
as he watched his love pass him by
Like the sun in the sky
tucks the moon away
Slowly the sky dims to dawn
and the moon she is gone