Full Moon

I love standing on my porch looking at a full moon
Unless it’s a random naked buffoon
‘Cause then I’d respectfully have to pass
Rather than stare at somebody’s crass.

I like it when moon beams pierce through a cloud
And shine down on us when the sun’s not allowed.
But moon streaks shine down “where the sun don’t”
So I’d rather not look, and I simply won’t.

But often my eyes are drawn to a stare
When they notice my legs are exceedingly bare
‘Cause sometimes I go on my porch unaware
I’m Pants-less participant standing out there.