Out of the bathysphere

I need a coordinate
so I will know
what path to take
the lights have been dimmed.

Skimmed like a stone
I always find my way home
there is no lake big enough
to ‘fake me out’

She waits for me
that much
I do see

when it becomes midnight
she’ll put on the light

The Moon and I are old friends.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.