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About This Poem
December Moon
Ocean's tide a desp'rate pull
Will it forever pull her back
A mist around her limp and still
Yet she lets it paint her black
December moon to hang
With a gentle strum of night
Does the cello drone, her body sunk
And music spilled her plight
By waves her eyes are glazed
With the rush of ill and lonely
To step beneath December moon
Caressed by her only
Her eyes no longer seeing through
Natures' mist that's swirling sweet
But was there anything to see
Except the tugging at her feet
Warm her oh December-sun
December moon calls now and then
Promise her your day-time sweet
And promise she'll be gold again
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