i have often asked myself
while looking at the full moon
why does it look so thoughtful, why dont i find
it smiling always
then i recall what you told me the other day
when we are away from each other
the time teases us,
the drop of dew are shy
of reflecting all the light they absorb
what do they do of the remaining light
they might have mixed it in the dew
so that memories become manure
and flowers remain in fresh bloom
longer, lighter, and last
till moon decides to take leave of its duties
and the lake is rebounding the songs you sang
while walking on green grass
like a shadow of moon in the early hours of the night