Through my night-time open window steals
The soft and cool light of the bright sun-reflecting moon.
Light glides across the bedroom floor; and slowly climbs the bedspread.
Then it inches its mystic way, from one side of the bed to the other.
As I watch the moonlight move, my heart--that so often deeply feels--
Then aches with hope that Luna, named for that very moon, shall get well soon.
In sad glad gratitude I recall her gifts of music to me;
And the golden words that she has said.
She is so good to me;
I pray from my soul, with my life's loved light, for precious Luna Marie:
For there will never be another.

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Written by Michael LP
aka MLP, aka Mr. Poet, aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC
(I'm just me)
Copyright (C) 2010 by Michael L.P.  All rights reserved