The Half Moon - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Picture of a Young Hippy Girl

I drifted to The Moon
last night looking for my life.

Mister Barman if you please,
a bottle of your best red
my ghosts will soon be here.

Michael's story

          Our witty gentle friend;
          Michael on most nights
          and Stephanie the rest.

          Many hurled abuse at you
          many more broke your bones.
          Terrified, you ran to the Moon

          for shelter.

          We nursed you back to health
          we mended your bruised body
          but there was no cure for all
          the scars they left inside.

          Our dearest kind friend, none of

          us could see the rope in your eyes.
          May you now rest in peace, you
          were born an age too soon.

Victoria's story

        I drifted to The Moon

        searching for a summer dress.

        With a Gauloises between

        your lips and a Bacardi
        in your hand, you were

        the coolest girl I had ever seen.

        Victoria, the girl with a hundred

        lovers but still a virgin in her heart.

        In a moment of sheer madness

        we promised to be faithful.
        And we were; well almost,

        except for a few nights.

        But it was the sixties then

        and wantonness was no sin.

        Soon we stumbled into love.
        We became tongue-tied and we
        blushed like children.

        On Primrose Hill

        under a lilac sky, we weaved

        our vows on the summer moon.

        I gathered violets and bluebells
        and pinned them in your hair.
        I was speechless. No one ever

        looked more beautiful than you.

        My sweet Victoria
        burning; incandescent;
        this was the fever of first love.

I drifted to The Moon
last night looking for my life.