The moon will return,
After a day of sun’s burn,
More sliver tonight,
Casting a greater shadow,
Holding longer on window,
That she’s looking out.

Sometime in the night,
She’ll stop gazing at it’s light,
Wondering silent,
When she would rather shout,
And freely go searching out,
Looking for the lost.

But there night is spent,
Propriety represent,
Inside she will yearn,
The threshold she’ll never cross,
To promises life was tossed,
Her life is sorrow.