Moon-whispersA Poem by L. FenellaNothing really comes to mind. It is what it is, I suppose.
Full moon, tipping out
Beams from its abundance Drip, drop, drip Falling, breaking, pooling On the cracked and broken earth below Spilling, trickling, streaming Through ridges and grooves carved by acid bitterness Wrought by the denizens of this lost and lonely world Black as black and blacker, it seems, this spinning globe In the dark empty of space and time Moonbeams are pouring, speckled by stars Sinking into the hard-packed hate, softening Turning heads to the deep blue expanse Opening eyes to the twinkling, winking dots of light Whispering in ears and hushing lips Look, the moon calls, but do not speak Have you not heard- A picture is worth a thousand words. © 2013 L. FenellaAuthor's Note
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