The Perigee Moon

The fullest, brightest moon. A Sonnet

The Perigee Moon

The day is always lit by solid blaze.
She'd wait for night to show her own pale glow.
Though try she may her fullness just a phase.
Her light soon fades to dark and formless woe.
She also yearned to come near to be seen.
“I’m not a cold and distant lamp,” she cried.
So cautiously she edged in close to preen.
That night in brilliance, she lit up the sky.
But she could not maintain this stunning shine,
And close encounter much, too much, to bear.
Her light began to waver and decline.
She shrunk away then driven to despair.
         Though endless cycle proved she’d wax and wane,
         She feared she’ll never know such joy again.