The light was lifted up and off
by evening’s firm hand.
We were sitting outside with our drinks,
taking in the expensive air
of a world we could not afford.
Like many a rich setting
we had come in over the fence,
knowing those who stared our way
saw us as trespassers.
But we were not ready to leave
Until the moon with cynical wink gave lantern to our walk
Back to city gates and out into the poverty of our lives.
We left the gold behind,
taking only the few silver moonbeams.
Christine Emmert, USA
The Social Poet 