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04/14/21 at 10:32PM
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Years ago, when light was gray;
Before the dawn of a coming day.
I arose early to watch the Moon,
traverse the Sky, like a Loon.
An object with a shape of long
forgotten material, lay among
the branches of a Maple tree,
awaiting the love, escaping me.
Far away from the lonely abode,
upon Death's horse, he rode.
