This night

this night moves as slowly as the moon across the sky waves, as it passes by an open bedroom window I’ve decided not to spend my love on cheap show-rides that spin me round and dump me and churn up my insides Instead I think I’ll save it for the kind that takes its time. A kind that I can truly say is mine all mine there are moths beating themselves up at the door wanting to share this late night brightness why waste the magic banging your wings against the glass when there’s a vast expanse of sky out there to fly around in stars dim and lose their allure dwarfed by the might of the day dazzled at first by an artificial kind but blinded in the realness of the sun by comparison this night has finally dawned on me