Moon Distilled

I bend away from every ray of light,

and never will I catch one, once it’s passed.

There goes the past, and with it goes the sight.

I never saw a memory so fast.

Your image has a special gravity,

as does your sound and lightning in your head.

The light of woman draws depravity

as if an apple falling on her bed.

We know each other not, to be a verse.

I’ll tap a meter, if you make it rhyme.

Some of my sonnets border on perverse,

but, then, the others bore you half the time.

Your greeting is an early New Year gift.

The candy’s sweet, but moon distilled is swift.