I saw the moon last night
alive as you and me.
It had been weeks,
since I saw her last.
Pressing forward,
she whispered in my ear.
And the sky darkened to grape,
just like before.
Through bright starry eyes,
she tiptoed out of the night
in the softest steps.
And I thought, anger and hate
can be conquered by love.
A Wandering Poet 