That cold full moon watches me.
As I sit outside on the cold step.
Smoking a cigarette
Tip aglow in the silver moonlight
So many regrets, so much pain
At so many lost dreams
Shared with moonbeams
But I am alone as always
Fighting life, an army of one.
Solitary. Such a bitter word to me
A word so painful that I can't utter it now
Under Cybele's baleful glare
Cigarette smoke rises in curling streams
Reaching up to sway, to dance in moonbeams
October now and the nights get cold
As cold as my heart it seems lately
And soon this step I sit on will be mantled with frost
Will I still be here? I ask myself
Or maybe elsewhere
But who knows? Not I so it seems
Under cold moonbeams.
Stan M Rogers copyright 2009