Fever

 
While gazing at the moon, I think of him,
As if he’s shouting back ‘wish you were here’.
But he’s much closer to in vision dim,
Were I to journey there, he’d disappear.

A force begins to gust as night relents,
While gazing at the moon, I think of him.
I catch a chill which has the wind repent,
For cutting ‘tween my heart & lover’s whim.

But it’s too late, condition’s turning grim,
What can I do, for I am all alone.
While gazing at the moon, I think of him,
To have him feel the love for my atone.

With fever, though I need to hear his voice,
How can he know I’m hanging by a limb.
For what we have is reason to rejoice,
While gazing at the moon, I think of him.



NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2019