Is it True?...

The moon hangs
Like a weight on tired shoulders
A mystic beauty
But you’ve heard of
The eye of the beholder
Is what I see the same that you do?
Is it true the air I breathe
Was breathed by Cleopatra too?

The wind howls
Like a thumb hit by a hammer
The surprise of pain
Takes the words
Leaving only stammers
Describe your thoughts
If you can however fleeting
Write down your dreams
In the morning see if the have meaning.

The suns rises
Like a child who wakes
To see his father
Instant recognition
But the waking takes a little longer
It’s the things we notice
That makes us who we are
Little drops of happiness
That washes the pain and smooths the scars.