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The Moon
A silver beacon shines on high Suspended in the midnight sky, Ethereal light with passive face Embraces half the human race. Detached, inanimate it gazes down On an elegant, peaceful town. It watches you walk near the sea Where silently you think of me. The cold, bright light is very clear, I wish I were that shining sphere. The moon would then look down with love From its celestial home above, No longer cold reflected light But radiant - glowing every night. You would marvel at its constancy And wish you were once more with me. -© July 2000- |
