Moonlight

Moonlight streaming in

through the old bamboo blinds,

cutting a bright white line through

the dark bedroom.

This cutlass of light slices

across the bed, through my pillow

and my sleeping face.
I am awakened by moonlight shining on me.

“God damn,” I say, as I try and

figure out why this blast of moonlight

has settled upon my tired eyes as a

temporary resting spot.

“So bright,” I sleepily mutter and try

to twist myself into an unexposed

sleeping position. Yet, it’s upon me still,

this beam of moonlight, cutting sleep and dreams.

I am awake now. Squinting in the moonlight.

Trying to remember what I was dreaming about.

Wondering how the moon in its orbit around the

Earth is perfectly reflecting the sun, into my face.

“Let me sleep, moon,” I grumble.

I close my eyes in defiance of the brightness.

But I think outside myself, I imagine how I

must look from the foot of the bed.

Am I bathed in pearly whiteness like

some Renaissance portrait?

Am I a ghoulish figure transformed by the

pale moonlight in the darkness?

I’m in sleepy awe of the moon.

The unnatural brightness slowly creeping

down my bed in shifting rays filtered through

old bamboo blinds.

I roll over in my bed,

the moon now at my back,

I can return to sleep,

now that the moon is done checking in on me.