Moonstone...

Yesternights I caught the newmoon sliced, whimpering,
He was cold and stoned as he hit the
lamppost
I was beneiged.
Like devotion dressed in disbelief
Sullen is the garb of silent skies,
An opaque star hanging listless.

Glimmering endlessly,
powdered glum flying from the skies,
it sits on my cupboards, windows worth hanging glee
flies in the face of lights,
rises beyond the time oe'r my shoulders,...