.png?auto=format,compress&fit=crop&w=280&h=280&q=93)
•
04/09/23 at 10:31PM
•
Poetry
•
See more by MFish
One may think,
you have won,
when at end of day,
you beat the Sun.
Wait not for she,
the anointed one,
as moon and stars,
will soon succumb.
She rode the skies,
with a grand aplomb,
gathering stars, like
they were ripening plums.
