Under a Crescent Moon

I gave you the book that had our dreams in,
You took it and promised it would be safe.
You took it and said, One day I'll be back.

The sky was clear when you went, and you smiled,
You opened the book on a blank new page
And said, Let’s add tonight’s bright crescent moon.

I could not move, but I think I smiled, too,
I looked at the book, at the moon, at you.

You seemed to offer the book to the moon,
Looking up, whispering words I couldn’t hear,
Then you went, and you did not say goodbye.

You had our dreams in that book when you left,
I wonder—can I still call them our dreams?
You took them and said one day you’d be back.