Crescent Moon

When you gaze up at her,
Have you ever wondered,
Why the moon has a crescent?
It’s to remind us of the scythe,
That iron kiss we all imbibe,
Not as a threat,
But to remind us to live,

The moon is an attentive beholder,
With an ivory grin,
She rests high in the firmament,
And she sees all,
A thin veil of clouds like maids-in-waiting,
Frantically failing to cover up their queen,
Lest her form be compromised,

She is the more shy of the sky’s orbs,
Dame Solar exemplifies life,
While Lady Lunar venerates the dead,
Her message is just as vital though,
That death can come randomly and unannounced,
That’s what the crescent tells us,
Willed on by the night-time air.