Moon Sprite

Snowy white hair falls
In blankets around.
It glistens as crystal
Touched by sun rays.

Color tricks the eye
Of the age resembled,
But eyes help find
The hidden years.

Pure color in the eye,
Not a swirl of shades,
But one standing out,
As a beacon inside.

Cloth drags around
The pointed small feet,
Creating small, young
Whirlwinds of dust.

The only skin shown,
In the soft, light tone
Of sand on a beach,
In a summer's day.

The bare shoulders
Part for the neck
Which bares the head,
Filled with regalty.

Moon beams flood down
To land softly upon
Wings that sparkle
As tiny jewels inset.

The translucent wings
Flutter and lift
The young woman
Into the dark sky.

She lands on the moon,
Leaning over the edge,
And watches closely
Of the ones below.

To those believers
Of a man in the moon
She shakes her head
In sarcastic woe…

For not believing
That the blue Luna
Is in fact a girl:
The Moon Sprite.