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There he sits. The moon is in the sky, like clockwork. His personality changed from yesterday, along with his clothes. Tonight, he's draped in stars and showing only a quarter of his wonderful personality. How humble he can be. He's playing off the light of the fireflies like a violinist from a conductor. Look at that...he's higher than the shadow connected trees. My old friend, you have a flare for the dramatic.
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
My friend, the moon.
There he sits. The moon is in the sky, like clockwork. His personality changed from yesterday, along with his clothes. Tonight, he's draped in stars and showing only a quarter of his wonderful personality. How humble he can be. He's playing off the light of the fireflies like a violinist from a conductor. Look at that...he's higher than the shadow connected trees. My old friend, you have a flare for the dramatic.
Observing the night....the other night. I always looked up and imagined the moon as a person when I was younger.
mark-parker
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
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