I'm not speaking to the MoonA Poem by Cherrie
I have no greeting for the Moon.
He left me in my darkest mood. Clutching at the blackest night. With no compassion for my fright. “It was the clouds,” I heard him say. But wrath I give him all the same. The smallest stars wept and cried, And the gentle breeze matched my stride. So, I leave with injured pride. Floating off with high tide. Never more to seek his face, as I leave from this place. © 2022 CherrieReviews
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20 Reviews Added on June 16, 2022 Last Updated on June 16, 2022 |

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