I'm not Promising the Moon

The quiet, cool of city streets,
A deep January night.
Pavement crawls away beneath my feet,
As the soles of worn shoes
Tap out the beat,
Of the music playing softly in my soul.
I close my eyes,
Feel the movement of gently rushing air,
Lift me up on pointed toes as though to fly--
And I sigh,
As my body sways to the sound,
Of the growing crescendo
Rising off the silent ground.
Pale and lovely,
the full moon, cracks her smile,
Before I have trudged another mile--
I feel her sweet breath on my neck,
And the way she calls my heart,
Makes me start--
To let the tiny jewels of tears,
Condensed behind my eyes release,
A storm of blue that unfolds--
Unabating 'til the deluge is spent,
And all the tatters of my dreams are rent.