Cress in my moon

 The cresent of your moon

Is smooth with

No lines appearing to cut

As I stole a fast look

Not wanting to be brash

Just laying their

Politely fading as

The round is of a length

Of a egg

But soft and defined

I go no where

But here I appear

As I want you to

Just stop and

Look at the delicacy you

Perceive as me  

Tomorrow bound to be bigger

Naturally filling

Put this property of the sky

To show my sealawet

Continues to dance up down

And

Round and round.