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Moon Song

 


The moon has the sound of an empty sky
a balloon of a sound at the edge of the eye
immune to the crackle of stars floating by.

Dune of soft silver as soft as a sigh
strewn with rocks that long-shadowed lie
soon to be ground, to trickle and fly.

Tune on the landscape, slippery sly,
bassoon in the shadows unsettling cry
croon on forever, wringing and wry,

moon of my memories until I die.

 

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