The moon illuminates loneliness,
shadowing the sting of full moonshine,
sand and hands combine.
If I told you
I’m flighty and tangent-taking,
I confuse dark with light,
my imagination’s an old apple orchard.
would you still take a bite?
I know the stars are burnt out,
no secret how they combine, still I
feel your tide tug on mine.
If I told you
I tend to roam without reason or rhyme,
form and dissipate, a cloud in troth of plight,
but, you’re the driftwood I search for
in the morning’s bright.
If I told you,
If I told you all,
If I told you all this,
would you still dismiss this kiss?
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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