Grandfather moon

Grandfather Moon,
Tired of watching
The children out playing,
Long after dark, sighed
“Know these little rascals
No consideration?
I have had barely
A decent night’s sleep
In a month!”
Saw they not the dangers
That lurked in the night?
And where would they be
If he and his sisters
The stars
Stopped shining their light?
“It’s your fault, you know?”
A small voice then muttered —
A Nightingale
Tired and weary,
Perched on a tree
At the edge of a park.
“How could they sleep?
You shine way too bright!
Without darkness
The world offers too much distraction.
It’s you who keeps them from their beds.
Thanks to you
There’s no rest to be had.
Could you, at least for one night,
Keep shut
That large yellow eye?”
Grandfather sighed,
For deep in his golden heart
He knew to his shame
That tired little bird
Was right.
That’s why the moon
Started waning,
But as hard as he tried,
He couldn’t stay dark.
Although often in slumber,
At least once a month
He’s still fully awake —
Watching out.
And if you listen closely,
On those nights he shines brightest,
You’ll still hear
The children play,
Laughing and dancing,
Bathing in starlight.

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