Late last night mingling with drunks,
amazed at all of the things that they said,
I looked at the ground and the mottled sky
with the moonshine in a puddle of cloud.
I saw again the man in the moon and remembered
how he lost his way going too far south.
And did we sit on a cow that jumped over the moon
or was that a dish and a spoon and not the moon
sitting together on the side of the road to Norwich,
spooning porridge, or were we supping pea’s pottage
in the moonlight that made us into moon prophets?
Moonstruck, moonchildren, mooning moonbeams.
Moony man in the moon his mooneye dark and empty –
dark and cold until a cloud came across and he winked.
He winked! Ha! The man in the moon winked at us.
Clouds clearing away back to the drunks and their blabbering.
Sad eyed figures that call me away to you then when
We were as friends, as one.
(written for Abingdon Share a Poem Group with theme Moon but not read as I was not confident about it)