Memento on the Moon

In the infinite vacuum, where the moon was born, I place a silver canvas, that is softly adorned, From dreams of starlight, and whispers of dust, An ancient clock, showing its age with rust, Its hands like shadows, still yet they turn, Marking the time, that is no longer my concern. There stands a solitary tree, sculpted in stone, Rooted in absence, yet never felt alone, Its leaves are the mirrors, reflecting our past, Sharing radiant stories, that are forever to last, As astronauts linger beneath the serene scene, With hopes that their spirit will still be seen. This memento left here, in its lunar embrace, A testament forged in the void of space.