Waxing Gibbous (almost full) – 10:00 p.m.
10/22/18
maybe I’m tired of writing about the moon
maybe I’ve forgotten how to sit still and be alone
maybe I’m terrified of my own quiet mind
reflection leads me down the dark trails
where nostalgia is as sharp as this frigid autumn night
the moon may as well be the sun or a strange planet
or a dream you told me about once
when your hands were small enough to fit into mine
and nightmares scared you
that’s when time felt the most real
and we invented a special place where you could go
filled with warm woods, bright water
and a cabin brimming with stuffed animals
a place built from smoke and memory
a place that kept you safe from bad dreams
a place whose entrance was guarded by dreamcatchers
why not meet me there?
now you can save me from my own bad dreams