The day surrenders to the approaching eve,
Having heeded sunsets herald call.
The moonlight over whelms as dusk takes leave.
It's luminescence keeps the night in thrall.

I hold my upturned hands before my lips.
A chalice formed to capture silver light.
As if I could partake in stealthy sips.
This liquor of the moon.
This drink of night.

I whirl about my foolish drunkards
dance.
All the more forbidden for it's source.
No mortal festival ought to take
such chance.

As tasting moonlights nectar in full force.
The Gods should only Know this spirits
taste
Night wine consumed by merely man
is waste.