The silver ring of the moon sits in the star-dimpled sky,
a steady, whispering watcher of years,
waxing and waning, and changing, changing-
but always the same silver moon in the sky,
unblinking its cool, moon-silvery eye.
And we blink back our tears
as the years go by.
2 comments:
Someone's been busy after a respite. Hemingway's bride redux?
semester project :-)
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