Mistress Moon

lying here upon my bed
in my ear, a whisper
a rustle at my feet
what’s this?
a call, a beckon
rising, I cast about
there, again
throwing open my door
she’s standing there
her face full upon me
I’ve seen her many nights previous
at times her face half-hidden
her hair is adorned with shimmering lights
slowly, night by night
she’s turned her face upon me
more, ever so little bit more
she need not utter another word
her voice transfixes me
I’m under her spell
reaching out, I touch her
she’s cold yet sexy
I want her
my lips quiver to taste her there
I’m ready in a moment
tongue curling
for a stretched out moment
I imagine kissing her
holding her there between my teeth
soft thighs and that silver smile
groaning, I reach out again
she always whisks me away
transported to magical lands
imaginations and fantasies
combined, entwined, inseparable
I feel a shiver
how long have I been standing here
staring into her face?
how long have I run my fingers
through her star-studded hair?
I notice with a start she’s moved away
much further away from me
she’s almost out of reach
wait! I cry out
just as she disappears before mine eyes
her raven locks fade from sight then
how did I lose track of the entire night?
I ponder as I stumble back to my bed
the first birdsong on the edge of my ear
she’s done it again, my love
yet I know, though she calls me tonight
I’ll answer her once more
no hesitation
though I know she’ll already have turned her face aside
always looking for someone else
while yet she visits me
still, I love her
she’ll finally give her whole self fully over
to me, only me

tara caribou | ©2020

Read this and more in my poetry book, Four.

25 Comments on “Mistress Moon

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Robert Charboneau.

Writer and Artist

living document

a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind

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