The night moves softly into the dawn.
The stars disappear, yet the moon still wans.
I gaze at the orb as I lay awake lonely.
Wishing it could speak to me--if only!
Would it say that it feels as lost as I do now?
Or would it laugh at me madly with a wink and a bow?
Thinking my troubles are simple indeed.
For it sees many far worse--many in need.
Like the baby and mother without any home.
The unloved old man that shuffles the streets all alone.
A child that is suffering from abuse and neglect.
The wife being beaten for lack of respect.
The crippled young athlete with a blank stare in his eyes.
An unwanted newborn a child molester buys.
A grandmother strapped to a chair and left hungry.
The teenager being coaxed to deal drugs by a junkie.
The moon sees it all and it taught me a lesson.
If your troubles are small--better count your dear blessings!
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