Once in a while he looked into the sky (when he remembered to).

Tonight a profuse proliferation of moon beams, the moon shine not the alcoholic sort but still leaves you dizzy

An abundant amorphous disc of brightness, betroth to him your lightness

Blue Moon, gone too soon

regret can be like a virus

He remembered to look up and when he did he saw a likeness

Copyright John de Gruyther 2018


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