Tuesday, July 15, 2014
east of the sun, west of the moon
Where will you go, love
when the late winds start to blow
dry leaves catch on your hair
Will you be facing the moon?
It is blue black
the night of your thoughts
and buried deep in your chest
A flickering glow
The lovers have long disappeared
a trail of winding pebbles
where will you go, my love
Will you be facing the moon?
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