A poem about the moon—and yes, the use of the word passed is intentional…

The moon still comes around
to her place in the night sky
Some nights, I think she’s trying to get my attention
a spotlight in search of a performer
or a fugitive on the run

I don’t have much use for the moon anymore
she taunts me on empty nights
reminding me of times passed and memories bitter
wishes still waiting for answers
hiding somewhere among the stars

Where the moon is tonight
I couldn’t say
no doubt creeping above the rain
indifferent to the clouds as they shed their tears

(15 December 2015—posted December 16)