Up in the sky
In the dark misty night
Above your height
You will find a moon that shines

It seems as white as milk
And as smooth as silk
Sometimes half and sometimes crescent
Sometimes up and sometimes down

The craters are the holes
Which are formed by big stones
It moves and it halts
No matter what Falls

No air no Fair
And no bit of atmosphere
It moves every year half inches away
As the astronomers say

– Ayush Kumar

Dwarka, New Delhi