Author Information
Lasso the Moon
Folder:
Emotions
Some nights I dream
of the last rights of the snow
and dust on a dying rose,
where sadness sings a song
in my head like an old cello
that only knows one note
And some nights my thoughts
are pulled like a tide I can't chart
to the dark sky waiting for light
when the black clouds finally part
Oh, if I could only lasso the Moon
with my smoke rings, throw them high
and ask him to tune the strings on his cello
so I can breathe in the wonder waiting
for me in the stardust of eternity.
