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Xilhouette
Poems
Jan 2016
8:00
The night is at it's ripest,
And the poet at his highest
The time of night where for a while,
His lyrics are filled with guile
The time when shadows are divine,
And the stars and the moon greatly shine
But the moon starts to dissipate,
For it has ceased to wait,
And gave in to it's weight...
I guess I should leave, it's getting late
© 2011 Xilhouette
Written by
Xilhouette
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Mike Essig
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