[Roger Slater]

DO NOT GO LUNAR INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT

"I am the moon," my father said.
"I shine on you from overhead."

And sure enough, his glow was full.
The sea and I both felt his pull.

My father aged, and with a laugh,
said, "Still the moon, but now just half."

The years went by, and in short order,
"Still the moon, but now a quarter."

And "still the moon," my father said,
a crescent waning in his bed.

"Father, do not wane too soon!"
I cried. "Remain a crescent moon!"

But cried in vain. My father died.
The sea pulled back for want of tide.