Last night,

The moon reflected

Brightly on the pond,

Kissing its surface

From the top

To the very edge,

Giving me a spot

On the rocky ledge.

 

A little fish

That had lost its sleep,

Came up from underneath,

To have an eyeful look

At the beautiful night,

And to verify if all that

He had day-dreamed

Was nearly alike.

 

Scattered fireflies

Wandered around free,

Like carbon dioxide.

Behind the lampshade,

A butterfly had found

It’s safe place to hide.

 

Tested paints on the palette,

Preferred mixtures

On the side,    

A magical painting

Was coming to life

On the canvas spread wide.

 

Little lively movements

In the dark,

Had given my ideas

A prepossessing spark,

But the moon

Seemed in a hurry,

And I couldn’t

Let my art scurry.

 

An idea that was almost

Visible and tangible,

Had begun fainting,

And what felt like

An accomplishment,

Had ended up as an

Unfinished painting.

 

I could have thought,

Observed and painted more,

I could have brought

It all on the page

For it to live on

Forevermore.

 

Perhaps there’ll come

A long winter night,

That’d help me finish

My painting before

The first light,

 

Perhaps there’ll come

Another night that would

Let all my vanished ideas

Reappear and bloom,

 

Perhaps it’s too soon

To blame the moon.