June 05, 2005


Poor Moon,
all by your pale lonesome.

Where is that Man;
where is Chang’e?

Will the stars that play
ring a ring o’ rosies around you
not let you join?

Pay them no mind and
come by my window:
I will keep you company

till at last you fall asleep,
wrapped in the gossamer shawl of clouds,
and nestle into the infinite mantle
of dreams.


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