The Moon
A luminous orb, a lopsided smile,
Waxing, waning, all the while
Never dimmed, though darkness approaches
Never ceasing to beguile
The Sun
Shrouded in cloud
Sometimes
Kissed by mist
Sometimes
looming in gloom
Sometimes
But mellow though stark
To scatter the dark
Always
Joy, age 12, Year 8, South Wellington Intermediate
Poetry Box 