stare at the moon with me
Small beads of water seep
into the threads of your
coat like tendrils of ice intertwining
with your body
pulling you in,
embracing you with
the cold, wet caress
from the earth where you came from,
and the one where you’ll go to
in the end.
Try to feel the warmth of the moon.
Does it shout to you?
Does it mumble?
Does it whimper when
it begs you to stop, stop, looking
away?
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