Mysteries 2

I reach out my hand, and I think I can hold onto the moon, but it’s not the real moon.

Instead, she cries, and it worries me, and my lips reach to kiss your forehead –

But it’s not really your forehead, just moonlight in my mind. And when you cry,

Maybe you’d not look away. With no questions or answers, just my loving eyes,

You’d find me real – if you reflected back your hand and held onto mine.