It resurrects the memory of Au Claire de la Lune.
(At least this is the way we children learned the folk song of unknown origin, though Wikipedia offers a more adult version of the lyric.)
“Good Pierre, I beg you,
In the moonlight bright,
Your quill pen to lend me,
For I long to write.
“Burnt out is my candle,
And my fire’s out too.
Good Pierre, I beg you,
Let me in, pray do.”
Since I was a child, these words and their haunting melody have claimed a room in my soul.
I’ve been inhabited by the image of the haggard writer — no candle, no fire, seeking warmth and light by which to continue his mission.
She is my silver muse, my inkwell, my inspiration.
It’s been too long since this writer snuffed out candle to bask in the dream-weaving radiance of a lunar swell.
I wonder what strange characters and nefarious deeds might be conjured up ‘neath her sublime countenance.