The stars whisper
secrets in the breeze,
rustling leaves in the
slumbering trees.
The moon has a
dark side, but
also a silver smile.
Mysteries unfold;
narratives untold.
In the Last Quarter
the stars show
there is hope
in the speckled light,
the veins of stars
twinkle in the space
between,
thoughts roam free;
the sky, a mirror
of what could
be.