Nice night for a moon

The days have brought out merciless suns
and our faces bathe in punishing heat,
so I anticipate the eventual fall
of the burning star, and evening's call,
the starlight weave the night has spun
above the outlines of our feet.

Sleep casts its spell on you again,
your face speaks of hushed peace;
what a shame you can't see
the silver-painted beauty
of the moon glancing upon you when
your cheeks are aglow with smiling peaks.

I'd watch you sleep forever and a day,
and picture all your dancing dreams,
because moonlight cannot kill
the countless poetry I spill
on immeasurable sheets of thoughts astray,
making midnight literature gleam.

And still I cannot help restraining my want,
for a part of me feels it's far too soon
that I ought to openly feel
what I've fought hard to conceal;
perhaps I should quiet my pensive haunts,
since it's a nice night for a moon.