Old moon, if only you could speak
by Raymond Holt
An ex Cranleigh village Bobby
Old moon hanging over “Robin Rag”
What is the secret that you keep?
You have seen life from the beginning
Old moon, if only you could speak.
What will happen when our fields have gone?
Where will all the animals go?
Will they scratch the concrete and the tar
Lost and forlorn, like birds in snow?
And now a cloud has hidden your face
And soft rain falls upon maple leaves
But when you return like a silent prayer
My heart will still be on its knees.
Are you the face that cannot sleep
From promises now wearing thin?
You know so much about us all
You on the outside looking in.
(An excerpt from the book of poetry ‘Looking Over My Shoulder’)