In dark
Sharp enough to cut your throat,
A thin moon
Edges steadily on, a glass cutter,
Across night sky,
Brushing, blowing into piles of clouds,
Little slivers of stars
That settle in sleeping hearts;
Until, in the little break,
Twilight starts twitching with life,
So happy, it melts the moon,
In its warm dawn,
And aches our hearts that just awake
from starry dreams.