A woman wakes in the night with tears on her face, startled by moonlight’s cold touch across her sill. In her sleep, sorrowful thoughts rose unbidden, and now she can’t shake them. She hears small waves breaking on the shingle below and a lone footstep passing where streetlamp and moonlight blend—lonely sounds in the dark. By day, she can force her face toward the sun and steer her mind to laughter, but sleep brings no escape. Instead, it opens a door to grief she can barely name, and the waking pain is so sharp she dreads closing her eyes again. The moon’s pale fingers return, stroking her face and arm, while her tears blur the black waves cresting silver under the moon. The mood is hushed, sorrowful, and intimately lonely—a portrait of how nighttime strips away our daytime defenses, leaving raw feeling exposed to the indifferent, silver light.
Moonlight — Summary
The moon reached in cold hands across the sill And touched me as I lay sleeping; And in my sleep I thought of sorrowful things : I wakened, and I lay weeping.
I could hear on the beach below the small waves break And fall on the silver shingle, And the sound of a footstep passing in the street Where lamplight and moonlight mingle.
And I said : "All day I can turn my face to the sun And lead my thoughts to laughter; But I hope in my heart that I never shall sleep again Because of the pain thereafter."
The moon's pale fingers wandered across my face And the arm where my hot cheek rested, And because of the tears in my eyes I could not see Where the black waves rocked moon-crested.