the moon was sleeping,
cradled in the clear sky,
clouds quilt him,
stars hide behind,
the fluffy clouds,
they don't let light,
pierce his eyes...
tired and dried...
waiting for new,dew,
to come and kiss...
kisses,many many,
Rhythmically...
the air is the lullaby,
once breeze,
twice between the leaves,
blowing,divine,
the flute,in the night...
swirling past,
to set shutters,
open-shut,
octanes right...
not emphatically,
but exuberantly...
once wind,
thrice between,
the legs,of all,
the bamboo trees,
sweetly screech,
every chord,
struck very soft,
playing violin...
no sympathy,
but synchronically...
the salt waters,
of his tears,
deep inside,the ocean,
surge from,the bottom,
and then slow,slowly,to down,
soft percussion...
just like the heart,
of our moon,our child...
and the smile,
forming,arching,
towards,the,
corner of his eyes...
Symphony.
Lullaby.
Smiley.
Baby.
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