My baby walks barefoot in the rain.
Late at night, when his
Toes drown in puddles
The memory of his footstep is
Washed away by the glaring moon.
The moon watches over my baby for me
As I am too far away to watch him myself.
The knowing moon, in her dimpled face and
Marble eternity
Knows my baby’s story.
He wishes on mother moon every night as he
Rolls up his pants in preparation for the
Night’s adventures.
On a nearby sidewalk there sits
A pair of slip-on shoes and an
Open umbrella.
Casually abandoned.
And he soars from
Gutter puddle to
Dewy grass to
Parking lot river.
(If only he had wings)
My baby dances with the
Reflection in the pools beneath his
Feet
And disrupts their privacy.
A sort of trust that only the rain and the moon
Understand.
They trust my baby not to tell their secrets.
And so the sky becomes his canvas
He sings songs and writes poems on the
Clouds, grey from the gaze of the
Paper moon.
His hands contain the midnight ink.

I lie in a puddle two states away and
Smile at sister moon.

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