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Moon Too?

I am staring at the moon,
it is full and orange, round,
its face seems inquisitive, wondering,
it makes me wonder what you’re doing.
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Look at this rock I have entrenched,
to ease your thirst, to see it quenched,
to bench the burdens harbored across a desert,
that deserves and yearns to be wrapped in pleasure.

What measure to censure a marvel I’d borrowed,
that longs for the core just beyond of the hollow,
to follow, to perilously plunge into pardon,
and refrain from shame when the night is forgotten.

Day break, substrate, that claws beneath the surface,
patience, for prize it is worth it,
learnt this in labors I had worked inside her garden,
that felt the same so long as I was ardent.

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