It Follows

My eyes roam skyward sailing East
and though each moment seems a moon
when senses on such beauty feast
the night will pass away too soon.

My soul is drawn when sailing west
to more than one can safe absorb.
I am by heaven's grace possessed;
enraptured by an ancient orb.

It follows that a moonlit sky
will call your beauty to my mind.
No matter where my roving eye;
no matter where you are I find
a glow that distance can't eclipse;
I feel your love-- if not your lips.