Blame it on the August Moon
that waned way too soon.
From fall's eve until December
she burned like an ember.
Come February and Valentine's Day
her love cooled like an Arctic bay.
Soon her white hot ardor turned to frost—
between us a frozen lake to cross
Her honey-dripped kisses and
good morning hazel eyes
frosted over deceit and lies.
Blame it on that devil Moon
that waxed and waned too soon.
Blame it all on
that August Moon.
David Cooper
Louisville, KY
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