Blue Moon

Days go by so fast,
Yet others so slow.
But somehow
The sand drips
At the same pace.
Keeping them all the same.
As the sun,
And the moon
Pour light as usual.
My moods,
Are that of the phases
Of the moon.
Ever changing,
Always the same.
And as the day-lit nights
Pass us by,
I constantly wonder.
And try
To figure out,
Who I am.
Or where I'll be,
At the next blue moon,
They say will never come.
But if the blue moon
Has disappeared,
Does that mean,
That my dreams have too?
So I watch the
Waterfall of a sand glass trap,
That marks the days.
And hope.
And dream.
Of the next,
Blue moon.