I'd howl at the blue moon
Were it not for its blithe enchantment,
And digging holes into the ground
Is as much fun as ever, but further
From home I'll dig my lowly grave.
I'm kindling now, a scarecrow of a knight
Please neglect me in your sight,
I'd rather you insist I was strong ‘til the end
Your banister against the fall, a column,
A just friend.
Don't despair as I go, you know
I'll wait for you wherever it is
We can run in the snow, I imagine
There will be snow.
Jessica Young lives in Harrisonburg, writes poetry, loves to sing and dance, and doesn’t like bios. Find her at Court Square Theater or the Artful Dodger having some coffee.
Illustration by Paul Hostetler