I blame the Moon, my pallid-faced friend,
Who drags me out into the empty alleys,
Where footsteps echo like a boisterous drum
And fragrant leaves cling to a fragile trellis.
She is to blame that I am here, alone
A passing specter by a glowing window
That thirsts for taste of some unknown life
And plunders dreams that curl up on your pillow.
I look inside and play a guessing game:
Who left a glass upon this cold table?
Whose maps and lamps adorn apartment walls?
What song she sings over that wicker cradle?
I watch a boy that stares back at night
Perhaps he dreams of other times and places
I feel his loneliness and hear his silent call
I catalogue his face and hundreds other aspects.
Back into shadow, slinking in,
my footsteps weave a different pattern,
As I dissolve among dark dancing leaves
The Moon blows out her magic silver lantern.