blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, poetry

Night moves

child-moon_Mysticsartdesign
Mysticsartdesign via pixabay

Every single night he calls me–
Let’s play hide and seek.
Stepping just ahead so slowly,
close your eyes, don’t peek.

If you look beyond the shadow
past the weary ghost
see, right there. I really do know
what you need the most.

Oh I know he doesn’t mean it
fooled me yet again.
Never catch him for a minute;
sleep’s a losing game.