The Half Moon


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The moon I see is barely complete.

She hides herself when joy is at peak.

When the sun is up, when the birds all sing,

Were blinded by the light,

To notice her hiding within.

When its dark and everybody’s in bed,

I peek and see the stars creep ahead.

The cool wind blows sending goose bumps in,

and a glowing eye stares.

That is when the Half Moon lets herself in…

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