Selenophile

She doesn't talk even a little
Yet she doesn't leave me, never.
She knows, my heart is brittle;
My storage of secrets forever

We always meet at later time;
Always eager to tell her a story.
She's never been out of line.
Never once she fails me.

I stare at her, firm and narrow
Silently admiring her from afar.
Her light burns my sorrow,
she caused peace in my inner war

She has no shoulder for me to cry on
Yet she comforts me like no other.
Her pressence is like a song
I whisper, I shout, I utter.

She may be gone soon
But I will wait til' she rises again
For she's coming back past the afternoon,
to share oncemore with my pain.