Ok, it's almost midnight, and I just had to write another poem! Why does inspiration come in the middle of the night! *bangs head on iPad*. I think I'll draw a picture to these tomorrow.
Really, it's the same poem in different PoV's.
Moon POV:
Oh, the sun,
He burns so bright,
He shows himself with his own light.
But I, the moon,
Reflect my love,
And softly glow in the sky's above.
All below look away,
When the Sun brightens the day.
But when I rise, they stare,
And none will care,
When I do slip away.
Our dance is quick,
A fleeting glance,
A moment quickly slips on past.
I will rise, and he will set,
And go on into the west.
I, the moon,
Shall dance with him.
And when the worlds will end,
Our dance will be slow,
The music soft,
And not quickly come to end.
I, the moon, will dance with him,
And my light will not be soft.
Sun POV:
Oh, the moon,
Her light so soft,
Will show herself by night.
But I, the sun,
Will send her my love,
Into the reflecting light.
All below look to her,
And whisper at her beauty,
Her silver glow,
On winter snow,
Will melt the coldest heart.
And to travelers wide,
Shall be their guide,
In selfless kindness.
Our dance so quick,
Can it not last?
But it's gone in just a moment.
When I rise, she will set,
All will quickly vanish.
I, the Sun,
Will dance with her.
In the end,
Our paths will bend,
And put us hand in hand.
The world may die,
But us in the sky
Will dance on with day and night collided.
I, the Sun, will dance with her,
And reflections will not be needed.
No clue what's going on in the last two lines in each poem... Yeah, midnight inspiration always comes with those strange "side-effects". Maybe it will make more sense to me tomorrow. Ok, I should get to sleep before it actually is tomorow )in 15 min, doubt that will happen!)