A blood orange ½2 moon
Sky so dark, heaven silent,
That rogue slants off quickly.
Leaving the skyline begging,
Grieving the chill it leaves behind.
Pale, growing darker over time,
That rogue colours up for death.
Watching over the Yorkshire moors,
And stalking me over hillsides.
Snatching at the winter sky,
Half hated, half loved, bereaved.
Planning on a cull of my love,
Lain desolate in solemn moments.
Blood orange moon courting me,
That rogue of star filled oceans.
Bleeding me into this empty cup,
Oh please take it away from me....