As It Is With the Moon Above
by Michael Doyle

In all the suffering behind poetry
It plays out deeply as if in melancholy
It's a pouring out of love and pain
Something lettered and yet still in vain

Sunshine and spring are simply a preface
For the coming winter's chilled embrace
It's a whole new world beyond reason's call
Without practicality of what does befall

To all of us as sweet time presses ever on
With a blink of the eye, the warmth is soon gone
Yet, at first it feels so akin to thunderstruck
Such is the way of love as if just our luck

In all of things of passion that we do pursue
As a source of joy in all the things that we do
Deep passions drag us into the compulsions of love
However the trickery of the silvery moon above

(c) March 30, 2021  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved