unsent draft messages

They call her the pink moon
The April moon
Atop her throne in the sky she sits
A beguiling Queen
In the darkest hour she somehow finds light
A beacon that makes us raise our heads skyward
Captivating eyes with her light
Clouds like the gentle sweeping of an artists brush grace her face
Yet they dare not linger too long for the sky belongs to her
Enchanted by her light, studying her features
Tell me, is she frowning, drowning or crying in despair?
Now look in your heart, do you feel the light?
Look up again and see her smile back at you
She saw all your scars and she’s still there
Quietly observing without judgement
Listening to your lifetime in a few fleeting moments
How fortunate we are for this April moon
This lofty exalted moon
At once my closest companion
Yet achingly out of reach