Many nights after the moon hides,
The stars may just have the chance to shine.
Some nights the moon is not present—
New moon.
January comes and goes, and still the chill holds.
Months later, in the warmest of times,
A sudden draft blows—
And you feel that familiar chill run up your spine—
Bringing back memories of harsher moments in time.
The moon is full, and yet the stars show.
Confusing how unwilled chances take you places,
You never thought to go.
Odd, how things happen without your will.