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Morning Moon
February 1, 2014
In the darkest, tainted hours of the eve,
we romp amongst the twisted vinery.
Those delicate, seek to reach the dawn,
yet our vim leads our intentions diverse.
Ebony sky slithers between our open fingers,
whom crave the enslaved, celestial light.
Night and day shan't meet in materiality,
so shall we wallow in oblivion dear?
Our morning moon awaits.
© Vanessa M., Glendale, AZ
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