With the Moon Waxing Full

There is a locket of hope
that I hang over my heart
with a silver chain, shiny
and almost strong enough.

Each day we are all placing emotional postage
on the letters written to recruit the heart
to let love flow from the simple gesture
of gratitude.

I am not the Lone Ranger
riding with my trusty companion
into the sunset.

I am alone on this vast prairie with my laughter
and all the jovial torches that burn brightly
to light the way under the stars

and with the moon waxing full,
we might just remember
how solitude is no stranger
to the dark reminder
we were all left behind.