The moon hung low in the sky,
practically dripping 
its bright, glowing, whiteness
on to your head – 
but you just stood there, 
complaining 
about the state of this world. 
Now, 
as I recall the moment,
I wonder 
if maybe
those drips from the moon – 
that apparently only I could see – 
were actually tears.

Painting by Caroline Reyes