Like the gypsy’s magic ball,
The moon was alive and staring
Down at me with his searching eyes.
Livid and knowing, it most likely
Chuckles behind my back ever since
I begged upon him to become everything
I am not. I was hoping against hope and
Coveting beyond the selflessness I had.
The night it was, I assume, led to my
Belief that anything I wish for shall come
True. Only the night and I danced in the
Moonlit park of secrets and pure delight.
The tiniest of the living would hear our laughs
And see our silliness that bounced off walls.
On this night, reality was overrated and
Unimportant. Then, when all dreams are shattered
Everything becomes beautiful.