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Dec 2015
The orphan misses
The sweetest Sorrow
The gifted tears
Of the weeping moon

He lives within a shell.
That opens when she weeps.
Come in, come in he thinks
But he doesn't speak

And so she leaves.
He was never there.

Now the day longs.
To stretch its light.
To push the darkness.
To the mid of night.
Pitch Fable
Written by
Pitch Fable  St. Johns, Cascadia
(St. Johns, Cascadia)   
296
   PoetryJournal
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