I asked that she stay. I knew if she left,
she would steal something. She laughed
and said I am a creature of the moon,
and must go where he bids. I sighed.
I know I am no planet. When I rise
I hold no hope to stay suspended. I approach,
and just as quickly recede.
So I told her go. But show
the same face tonight, when you return
to me. So she stole
away through the spaces in the shutters,
the way she came.
It can't be stolen if nothing is owed
No more than a second steals when it ends
No more than the sun steals light when it sets
No more than the low tide steals from a stone,
by leaving it where it is. So why feel robbed?
That I was weightless at the apex,
then had to heavy to descend?