Sunday, November 22, 2015

Tiptoe toward the moon

On cold nights, when the clouds,
alight with color from the last rays of the sun,
tiptoe toward the cradle of the moon 
clutching a blanket, hoping to keep her safe and warm,
I ache for all the refugees
shivering beneath the threadbare quilt of stars.

1 comment:

buddha-builder said...

Beautiful poem; beautiful heart; beautifully evocative clouds! Thank you..... :)