The unwell moon.

I stand alone and stare at the moon. I wonder if there is someone else also staring at it right now. The sky is studded with silver jewellery. A tear runs down my cheek hurriedly to reach my chin as if a tresspasser on my cheek. The expression on my face does not change. My eyes do not blink. The moon seems to be heart broken, angry and lost. I look at it pleadingly as if to say "Take care". The moon refuses to listen to me. It hides behind a big, black cloud. I wonder if it hides behind the clouds to seceretly cry. The wind gushes by me, cooler than usual. I feel choked. A knot seems to be growing in my throat. Darkness, like a worried mother pampering both, the moon and myself, carries us in its warm arms. I close my eyes and silently pray that the moon shines every dark night! Everyone loves the moon and everyone will continue to do so. The moon doesn't need me to shine!