Pale Moon
Noise is inevitably inaudible
over the silence
lingering over the time
and trees, bare with teeth,
not leaves.
The sky buries depth
beneath a dangling cloud astray,
showing me that black
is the depth
and the sky
the height
making the pale moon
hide away his bravado.
So forever he will watch
one drooping lid
changing every now and again.
White
appears dullest when my pail is full
but yellow is not red
and I don't feel anymore
amorous...