The waning moon
(after Percy Bysshe Shelley)
Shapelessly white it spread its light
ailing like a old withered man
in the darkness of that night
its half a thumb’s span
rising very slow
taking half steps before pausing for breath
it had a whimpering kind of glow
as if it was very near to death
wandering in the elemental space half-insane
trying to find its way through a myriad of bright stars
as if feebleness, atrophy had rotten its fading brain
as if it wore a crisscross of scars
while its colour was a kind of pale
thinly covered by a cloud’s veil.
[Reference: “The waning moon” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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