Loving you was like the sun
admiring the moon.

Though it was in its darkest times
the sun would always rise
to let it sleep and rest from all the frightful faces at night,

from all the silence it embeds.

The murder the moon has witnessed,
the sun stares and admires it as a bear witness.

The sun could only admire the moon
as fall comes and spring blooms.

Winter was its favorite day
when it was cold as the moon turns each day.

Fall was beautiful,
the leaves falling from each tree,
when exclusive drinks were served

on a pint cup, some wanted tea.

When trees would be

so pretty

and not full of foolish junk

by people of no taste for environmental scarcity.

The moon loved the night
it was its only serenity.

Knowing the moon never saw the sun,
the sun was contented with watching it as one.

The moon with all its rising glory
though the sun was admired,
no one could live without the moon's cold air

as if it was the open of winter.

It felt nice to a lot of people,
to keep them close and only watch.
Spring bloomed the flowers that are deemed "Instagram worthy,"

keep stepping on it.

Surely, your followers should be worthy of each flower you step on
for media.

Why not take a long shot
just in front of those beautiful fields
where you're surrounded by poppies

and dandelions for days

Minimal people love the winter,
though it was cold ,felt deserted,
and you were locked in further
but could I hither in the snow for days on end?

Yes

of course, there the moon shines brightest
on a winter palette, the sun admires it,
the moon was all the sun was ever going to get out of it.

Though the sun loathed winter
he knew how to learn it,
for whatever the moon wanted

he would learn it, even the smallest flower,
the smallest flake, the beauty of the moon that loves winter,
ever had to offer.