The moon was for us
A constant source of amusement.
I would gaze at it
Through a large telescope
Hoping to discover
What kind of cheese it was made of.
She would stand beside me
Eyes wide, enraptured
Peeking out from behind her hands
Always surprised to see the moon still there
Perhaps the moon grew tired
Of my indecent probing
Or the stones that she would throw
To test its bravery
One night we found to our surprise
An empty sky
It was as if the moon
Had never been there.