Fingers trace
the crescent moon coffee stain
on the otherwise white napkin.
Nothing left
between us now
but donut crumbs.
– This poetry form is called a Cherita.
Tag: separation
Three Moons
It has been three moons since last we spoke.
I wonder if you have longed for me.
Do you imagine me where you are?
Your hand in mine and we said goodbye.
We promised each other forever.
But, is the deep of space just too far?
I turn my eyes toward the night sky,
Always watching for a sign, a trace.
Three moons; I’ll wish on another star.
– Written for Jane Dougherty Writes, Poetry challenge #43: Trilune. Photo from Wikimedia.
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