Mother sang about the man in the moon.
I don’t understand how he can wax and wane.
Like that maxim “love one another”
seems to wax and wane
if people are others instead of another.
Reality morphs, contorts,
always in flux.
Except for you.

Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse where today we’re asked to use the word “moon” in our poem of exactly 44 words sans title. Image from Pixabay.com.