A Walk under the moon.

It was a drowsy night
The moon drunk in solitude.
Oh! The sky was a sight.
Some broken stars trying to elude.

Somewhere far a man sang
The prelude of his tragic song.
In the deafening silence, his voice rang.
Alas! It was going to be a night long.

The moon in all its beauty shone.
The stars twinkled in disdain.
For the moon was doomed to be all alone.
Oh the beauty in its pain.

The moonlight trickled its way down.
Through the decayed leaves and branches thick.
It lit up the neighboring town.
Reflecting the carvings on their bricks.

My path in the depth of the forest
Rough, worn out by the travelers weight
In the mist of autumn leaves, a birds nest.
And the sounds of a creaking gate.

The canopy of trees lay ahead
Dark, dense and mute.
Moonlight through the foliage of trees dead
Lit up the beaten route.

The mans singing now distant
The moon seemed lonelier with time
The path still rough yet consistent.
The twinkling of the stars sublime.

A walk under the desolate moon
The drowsy night enveloped me over
The memories of the bygone June.
Ceased me from being sober.

Inebriated, I found myself lost.
Lost like the man's tragic prelude.
Cold from the falling frost.
Alone, I, the moon, the song. and solitude.