the moon still calls
like when i was a child
knees pulled up close to my chest
perched on the big windowsill in the quiet house
the only one awake in all the world

the moon still calls
even after so many years of not listening
when i mistook pixels for pixies
phone screens for faeries
scrolling for seeing

the moon still calls 
and i find ways to answer her again
chin cupped in my hands
gazing at her fullness
she’s not angry with me afterall
and my eyes are young again