It’s 4am
again.

I lie here
in this room that’s not mine
and stare out the open window
at the crescent moon
so serene
so remote.

I have marked her movement
slowly, almost imperceptibly
across the sky
on a set course
towards a pre-determined destination, and
as the church bell chimes the hour
it’s sound reassuring in my ears
I think of you
again.

 My feeling of solidarity
with the planet’s satellite
is strengthened by your shade
that continues to hover on my horizon.

I have tried to banish
the ghost of our love
but on nights like this
I see you in the shadows
reaching out to caress my dreams
and I offer up my heart
almost without violation
to you, my friend
again.

© Sally McLean 1997


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