Dying December Moon

The late December moon
offers a magic lambent light.  
To soothe the darkest hours
of winters coldest night.  
The fruit of lofty dreams
in the orchard of my mind,
have soured of their delight.  
The compost of my desires
will once again,
fertilize the soul's soil.  
A long vacant spring of self
still remains loyal.  
Another year about to expire.
The night feels warm alongside
memory's nostalgic fires.  
What we remember most,
is those who have been kind.  
On the final nights of the year,  
The elderly December moon
bestows a dying hopeful shine.