I don’t often write poetry but if I’m ever going to September seems to be the month for it. This one’s brought on by the autumn equinox which is today. It hasn’t quite landed and I’ll probably tinker around with it some more but for now here it is.
OUR MOON
Oh, there it is.
The new moon rises early, curvaceous among the chimney pots.
Along that road, basements are being dug, extensions extended
But the sky, this moon is ours.
Through another window, the tube rattles past,
The carriages empty,
Light on the tracks.
Like bandits,
From the bus, masked faces peer
Into the living room.
I smile and wave, hoping their eyes crease
In the corners.
Then you shout from the kitchen,
‘Come quickly. The moon is changing colour!’
victoria blake 
Great poem. I love the sense of loneliness and a slightly eerie feeling from the empty carriages of the tube and the masked bandits. Not to mention the mystery left by the last lines.
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Thanks Andrea for your kind comments. I’m not sure it’s quite landed. Maybe I’ll put it away for a few weeks and see what happens when I come back to it.
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