A figure in the moonlight

There's something mysterious about moonlight. It's almost creepy. I guess that's why we see it in so many horror flicks. You know how there would be wolves howling under the moon or vampires crawling out from their graves at dusk, shudder ;) Well, when I was doing my creative writing assignment at uni in Australia, I decided to write a poem against a moonlit backdrop.

I saw in my mind's eye a really lonely woman staring out the windowsill. She looked almost transparent and her hair was blowing in the wind so I decided to make her a spirit. When I started writing, the words were just flowing unplugged, which usually happens when we are inspired about something.

I knocked on my flat mate's door when I was finished with it, all excited to read it out to him. This would be Craig, my ultra sarcastic cousin who was always mean to me (but I knew he loved me la *wink*. Just too macho to admit it! *eyes rolling upward* ;) So anyway, I read my poem out which was handwritten on different pieces of paper...

"So, what do you think of it?" I asked him.

"My goodness, Jo. Don't you ever write anything happy? I was in a perfectly good mood till you read me your poem" Ah ha! *chuckle* Well, at least I got a reaction! I KNEW he liked it despite him grumbling about how 'dark' it was. And he's right, it's sad but this depends on how you look at it. What I was trying to get across is that we shouldn't take things for granted. Don't wait for "death" to appreciate "life" Live every day like it's your last, as the saying goes...well, here's the poem.

"For Just One Day"

I stand by the windowsill
like the whisper of a shadow
The finger of a breeze
is a tease on my skin

The night is my only companion
my only joy
I feel strangely alive
although I know I am mistaken

I am but a dream by the window,
a naked figure in the moonlight

my hair is my only cloak,
wrapped around me tight

the ghost of a smile plays on my lips
and from their redness drips,
a bittersweet moan,
a soundless sigh,
painfully alone

Salty tears that can't be tasted
and deep regrets I know are wasted
but the well of images are present in me
so I will drink them for a memory

Take me back, take me back into time
when I was a child, my senses wild
or to when I when I was a woman
filled with hope and longing

I dream a dream that's not be

For just one day,
let me feel the heat of the sun
or the wetness of rain
Let me dance in the flame of fires
or drown in my own desires

Just let me feel again,
I don't mind bleeding
Just let me hurt again,
I don't mind crying

Just let me breathe
so I can live again

I dream a dream that's not to be

I will not wake
for I never sleep
I'm just a walking shadow
with memories to keep

I turn to gaze at the picture of my love
resting on rose coloured sheets
and that ghostly smile returns to my lips

The picture is almost perfect
I am even present in the room as he sleeps
but I'm no longer a part of it

I stare out the windowsill
and he stares right at me
so I moved much closer
making sure he would see

But then,
he fell asleep again
and the knowledge that I had
painful in my chest
tore at me that morning
He could never see me

I gazed out sadly at the start of a new day
the sun had reared its burning head on the pink horizon

It was time for me to leave
and I would go the way I had come
through the open window sill
the place he always used to find me by

the curtains rustled aside at my departure
I was the parting breeze that had caressed his cheeks
He turned his face in sleep
and I was gone