Nocturne

The moon in the sky
in a cloudy ring,
Tired pretense
on my face.
I hear the clatter of wheels
And it carries away into the distance
The ethereality of clouds,
But not sadness.
It stayed here,
With it dreams and peace.
They suddenly surge
With a wistful tide
And, subjugating
the movements of the hand,
They sprinkle words
on paper sheets.