Crescent Moon

The Luna lady languidly
lounges on the crescent moon,
takes advantage of its supine mode,
flaunts gauzey garment, starlight strewn.

With warmth, her wanton light emits,
the lovers' light when full,
when wind is just a wafting breeze,
clouds cuddly as wool.

Or, new, from gleaming sliver peeks,
perhaps a neighboring star,
a lunar circuit, in only weeks,
as it was, seen where we are.