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Jan 2013
As the golden sun sets,
My eyes tear and sparkle with joy,
The burning torture of the day; gone,
And now the white light to enjoy.
I sit at the stroke of midnight,
Eyeing beautiful stars up in the night sky,
Watching is a privelage,
Yet not to fly.
Yet my ears follow another sound,
A grey cloud is forming,
Yet my eyes visualize something epic,
There becomes greyness for storming!
Stars faded one by one,
Some vanished in a row,
For this was no joke,
Nor any show!
The most widely known star burned the cloud,
For whatever stars were left, cheered,
The night seemed so proud.
Shari Forman
Written by
Shari Forman  New York
(New York)   
555
 
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