The outlook wasnt initially
Brilliant on the onset of that
winter night, and the owls' hoots
Made honest reflections
of the cruel cold.

//But out from opaque clouds
the moon illuminated her sister globe
with a sliver of her lighted half.//

For when night despair brings,
When deep under the water
hidden melancholy breams dream,
The moon will never beam
without bringing me dreams.

My mind prickled me with half-witted
ponder,and I thought,

"What does the sun make of the moon?"

Dreams come true my friend,
And some are miracles that cease
to exist but ridicule deep
Underneath itchy...