Last night I moored a cloud boat in the sky
By the tree outside your window.
To take you on a moonlit ride
Down a milky river way
That cleaved the night in two.
I could see you —
Trailing your hand in the cold water
Filled with stars, and with one wet finger
Tracing the circle of moon
That swam by the side of the boat.
But other boats were tied there, too,
So many it was hard to tell,
Mine from theirs, theirs from mine;
Or see the moon; or the milky path;
Or the stars that waited
To ride upon the wake of your fingers,
by David Wear