My Lady Moon
My Lady Moon, she treads so soft
like webs of dreams gone by.
She sails in blue, a gown of blue
as hushed as Heart’s last sigh.
She turns her face, so strange, so fair
an opal in the dark
with eyes as chilled as Arctic waves;
her face, let mortals mark.
Aloft, she lives with Night, the one
that she has named her friend
The wolves, they howl till they find her
and may they then, cease, end?