An old poem.

Just a note: I am cheating a little today. Not only am I not following the prompt, I am not writing a new one. While this is an old poem, I referenced it in The Light Side of the Moon which is a new poem. It was the first poem that was not romantic or spiritual. I tried to be a 'real' poet, whatever that is. Some one said it was too depressing, so I tacked on that last line. So you choose the ending you like.

The Man in the Moon Turns Thirty

I too, feel old for the first time today,

Like the silver-orbed moon last night

With it's weak effort to reflect the blazing sun's glory.

I too, am plump and swollen,

Like the poster child for emotional malnutrition,

With my big sad eyes and soulful sighs.

I too, sense that I am diminishing,

Like the slivers of my life are disappearing

With each day I slowly move around the earth.

I too, will soon be thin and slightly curved,

Like a boomerang that has lost it's will to come back,

With the barest wisp of cloud obliterating me.

I too, sense myself ceasing to be seen on the earth,

Like one match of a pack, flared and discarded,

With none but wolves and stars to remember me.

I too, hear the thin laughter of the lean new moon,

Like a green recruit replacing a scarred sergeant.

With the wise hindsight of a thousand other moons, I'll fade away.

To be with God.