Back to the Moon

I open the window
and look at the moon
And I hope against hope
That you’re looking too.

So that if we stare hard enough
We just might see
Me looking at you
And you back at me.

The trees are all whispering
Songs in the wind
Sweet lullabies
That never end

The ones that you sang me
When I was young
I think you sang me
Every song to be sung

Are those times gone
Just pale memories
What do I have left
But the songs in the trees?

Was that your voice
That I just heard
I think, I imagine.
Too soft to be sure.

Tonight I must sleep
With tears in my hair
But I’ll come back to the moon
To see if you’re there.