She's always there atop the pedestal   
Higher than high, unpredictably vain   
and her moods predict her style   
She would wear dark heavy cloak   
When in grief her tears would soon flow   
Be careful when she's angry   
Her thunder would shun you   
with her boom box in full blast   
  
Other times she's happy   
And clad herself with thin cotton and blue   
There are times she's feeling bold and would go all nude.   
Both times her golden smile would shine and grace you   
But at night she would be always glamorous   
Either adorn in sequined black velvet   
or just plain satiny dark gown   
wearing her moony pendant or sometimes without   
  
Indeed she's unpredictable but we look up to her   
Her presence so majestic, fixated and conforting   
Even when we are alone, we knew that she's there   
Never would she leave even until the end of time 
  
A/N 
entree piece to poetry contest themed Seeking Skies (talk about the weather!)

Published 15th February 2017