A teardrop from the Moon, I fell

Through the window of open Sky and

Dark of Night, into the puddle

Of the Earth, rippling moonlight.

Treading passively, always the stranger

Among my years, only belonging to the language

Of reflected Love, and moonstruck.

Always desiring a kiss akin to the brilliance

Of the transient Moon on my face.

Waiting for the cycle of dark to open like a shell and

The borrowed light to stream through my window again,

Like a searchlight.  Oh, to be sought after, and found.