The light shown bright,
In the eyes of the moon.
We all know though,
Just whose it was.
No it wasn't the moons light,
Nor was it the stars.
The sun owned the light,
We saw in the night.
Reflected off the moon,
In dark cold fright.
People rhyme,
At least they try.
About the moon,
And it's cold blue light.
Well unlike them,
I've tried to.
But I think the wolves,
Diserve the tune.
For they are best,
When the moon shines bright.
And not even they get a fright.