The moon bleeds
a lovely shade of carmine tonight.
Drenched in its wondrous glow
the city stands like a haunted house
made of childhood memories.
The shroud of darkness reveals itself
to be a mere blanket under which
forgotten wonders lie in wait for you.
Maroon drips, burgundy smears,
cherry slushies on a summer night left
behind to rot in quiet solitude.
The blood moon is rising,
and the world is growing wider again
with the promise of change.
Stars shine pearly white, mirror
the bubblegum stains and cigarette butts
stamped out on the concrete below.
The blood moon is rising,
and so can you.
