The moon

She takes me into her arms,
puts her thin shroud 
around my tired shoulders.
It slips off my slouch,
But she puts it back on.
She pats my head
and lets me lay on her chest,
as she begins to sing;
The sounds of crickets
and night owls.

Her skin glimmers with stars,
that twinkle at me,
knowing that I
have eyes only for the moon.

He lights up my night,
even though I see him, 
when my world 
Is dark and blind.

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