Well of Moonlight

This moon,
This moon,
This moon is not real:
There is another moon up
On a hill,
And my that moonlight
I draw water from the well.

Now my sister is getting married,
While I am waiting,
Waiting,
Wondering if I should stand sometime
Beside her stone
Beneath the well;
In autumn, or in summer,
I cannot tell.

My scars are salmon,
Salmon underneath the stars
And the pallid aspens, like sisters
All up and down the hill,
They stand so very, very still
Just down the draw
Where the moon spills its light
Like water down into the well;

And onto the stone
Where beneath my sister lies yet married,
So very, very, very still.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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