Just a sonnet for today’s post…
Sonnet of Night
Far, far away the waning moon’s a curl
Of parchment dropped upon the blackened night,
Upon its ink-dark page. It lies there, bright
As a torn fragment had been left half-furled.
For in this tale of a benighted world–
Its beauty and its sorrow–shall we write
Upon the fading moon in letters white
Our narratives insc…
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