moon faithfully fantasizes—Writers Island

was it but a year ago, the moon shining bright,
(etched in my mind, so well);
I strolled with my loved one in the orange light,
our voices intermingling like twinkling bells

suddenly the moon grew dull-
my love seemed to have sprouted wings;
he appeared a face of a smirking skull
what I felt in my heart was a ghastly thing.

fantasy was it? for my love lay still
within my arms, his eyes aglow;
wondering why my lips were chilled.
silently I pulled him closer, kissing him so.

one year gone, the moon is still bright.
too bright, like a ghost of woe;
I am standing by a newly dug grave tonight
with a wrecked heart, it’s bizarre you know.