Today's poem is by Margaret Gibson

On the Moon

When she said children's moon, I gasped—
she wouldn't have heard me or even
seen my face change, not one atom.
I do a lot of listening, from so far away
you wouldn't know I'm listening at all.
If I could, I'd sit on the moon to watch us
here on Earth. My dad says things
look better up high from his airplane—
maybe I get my watchfulness from him.
I don't know—that's why I listen
outside their door when Mom and Dad
fight their civilian war. That's why
I edged myself to the rim of the class
when the picture man came and gathered us
together and tried to make us smile about it.
Mrs. Nelson, I live on the children's moon—
can your voice reach me there?

Copyright © 2017 Margaret Gibson All rights reserved
from Mrs. Nelson's Class
World Enough Writers
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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