Has the moon forgoten her child?
She has disappeared with the fall.
Withered leaves collect at my feet.
The stale dark stills,
while the streetlight flickers toward dawn.
Waiting for the sunrise,
past the aches of fall,
the death of winter,
and the budding spring.
There the summer moon waits for me.
Her shadow lighting my path.
My nightly hours,
where I walk with her as my guide.
*photo courtesy of the amazing Kellie
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