And in all rareness, the blue micromoon decided to peek through the gloomy clouds of May 31st. Its light, well-borrowed from sunlit rays, chose to shine through old wounds of what could've been, where it all lacked, why it went wrong— stopping the hope of future chances, painting my aching heart in blues and of whites, just as today's lunar view. _________ This poem is inspired of the Blue Micromoon and what feelings it may evoke on rarest chance.
