Moon’s Tryst

once you sang of the moon
and its silvery light
nestled in a velvet blue
a pearly orb of white

as you strummed, you looked at me
and conjured up delight
in your eyes love was full
and promised dazzling flight

but in the morning in my bed
your spot was empty, cold
the sun was fiery yellow
while this maiden, gray and old

now the moon, it hides from me
and in the sky plays dim
each night passing — lessening, waxing
for some other lovers’ whim