Crescent moon sits tight
keeping her eye on the night.
Not a lot she hasn't seen,
the glamour, the glitz,
the world falling to the pits,
then rising again, like lungs full of breath.
Nothing excites, not life nor death.
The monsters don't cause her fright
and the people barely raise
a hint of delight,
She watches the milling of crowds
in cities, all out on the tiles.
She hides behind clouds
whilst the wandering feet
have walked for miles.
She sees where they've been
and where they are heading to,
their secret rendezvous.
She pays them no dues.
She has seen it all before.
She sees the castles,
all the pomp and ceremony
So phony she thinks,
feeling lonely.
She witnessed the birth of man,
The fall of Rome, the fires of Pompeii
and the millennium dome.
The hundred-year war,
a beat of a butterfly's wing
Nothing more.
She saw Notre Dame burn,
in the blink of an eye.
She has seen the world turn
millions of times more than you or I.
She has seen the greats,
the writers, artists, playwrights,
their flames flickering bright
then fading away.
Like candles marking
the earth's passing years.
She has seen smiles and tears.
And will see so many more,
long after we have gone.
Departed the story,
just a wave on the shore,
a footnote on a page,
nothing more.
Every inch of the earth she has seen
Every tree branch, every new man-made machine.
Nothing new for her to explore.
Keeping eyes on the people of this earth
has become quite a chore,
their constant noise
a frightful bore.
She yawns, as day inches closer,
She sees a hint of orange,
a hairline crack on the sky
and with a sigh she closes her eyes.
Thanks for reading
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