Once in a while he looked into the sky (when he remembered to).
Tonight a profuse proliferation of moon beams, the moon shine not the alcoholic sort but still leaves you dizzy
An abundant amorphous disc of brightness, betroth to him your lightness
Blue Moon, gone too soon
regret can be like a virus
He remembered to look up and when he did he saw a likeness
Copyright John de Gruyther 2018