Tonight I sulk, under
the influence of the slow
moon, the same moon from
which you drew your words.
I was taught not to pout,
but your leaving has left
me bereft, pushing against
the words that are coming.
I only want to thank you.
Tonight I sulk, under
the influence of the slow
moon, the same moon from
which you drew your words.
I was taught not to pout,
but your leaving has left
me bereft, pushing against
the words that are coming.
I only want to thank you.
- John Steinbeck