Mother
Mother moon, your light precedes you.
I skirt through the City to keep you
Bobbing in sight above the towers.
Stop winking at me, you tease.
The street lamps eyes are narrowing in envy.
And I know. You’re looking increasingly beautiful
Especially tonight. And what you’re telling me
Smiling bright and wondrous, (Northern accent):
“You’re gonna be alright, lass.”