The moon

His light, brightening the dark ocean of stars,
Pure whiteness in a place full of black.
As we rest he works, moving in a
Never-ending cycle.

He does more than just circle the earth, lighting up the night.
He also controls the roaring cold monster beneath him.
When he arrives he pulls it closer towards him,
And when he leaves, he lets it go.

He comes in different shapes,
Sometimes he comes in half’s,
Sometimes he comes in crescents,
And sometimes he comes full.

Sometimes we like to stare,
Be amazed by his beauty,
But sometimes we overlook his importance,
And forget about all the vital things he does.

He is the controller of sea,
He is the light of the dark,
He is the beauty of the sky,
He is, the moon.