Tell The Moon

It was an enchanting night, one woven fine in tempting lights and rather pleasant weather. A gentle breeze, as gentle as the touch of silk. To all people at that thorough dark time of the day, they head bedward while I chillingly, yet peacefully, admire the moon. For the moon is a rather peaceful companion, with no judgment nor harsh feelings. It is just peace and comeliness that it owns.

I stare out of the window, admiring that beautiful and perfectly-circled figure. While many people are chasing their mirage of happiness and calmness in the form of materialistic owning, it is the moon’s insight that evokes feelings of happiness in me.

I am then slightly distracted by my mother’s poke,

“Sophie, darling, why are you awake at this heavenly hour?” she asks with so much worry.

“I am so taken away by the moon,” I mumble.

“Why don’t you go and tell the moon then?” she whispers.

“How could I?”

“You simply open the door, have a friendly walk, and get closer to it,.” she effortlessly replies.

“But, what will I say?” I ask myself.

Will I tell the moon how its company has put down many fires within me when I was mad at myself?

Will I tell it about the day my hair was so greasy that I kept on screaming?

Will I tell it how I had that self-awakening chat with my friend that suffers from anxiety and depression?

Will I tell it how I miss someone so much, but cannot fathom the fact that they no longer talk to me as much as they used to?

Despite all, I almost forgot that the moon knows all of my secrets. Despite the shooting stars and foggy clouds, you remain to be my comfort, my dear Moon.