Word Count: 88

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Purpose

by   
4/26/2009 / Poetry

Looking up
See the moon
Pale friend
Braving afternoon

Single polka dot
On blue silk
Looks down on me
Colour of milk

Lone trespasser
In daytime sky
We are alike
Moon and I

Less impressive
Out of place
Crude stitchwork
Amongst fine lace

Yet even he
Reflects sunlight
Fulfilling purpose
In the night

Hiding behind
Vapouros clouds
Leaves me wondering
Mind a shroud

Did God create
Me for a purpose?
Was I made
Just some surplus?

If not
Why am I queer?
Spirit wonders
Why am I here?

This was written by myself, no copyright applies.

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