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ONYX DREAM
I dreamed a black; an onyx lake
before the sun’s first dawning rays
its surface marble smooth and makes
no sound without the warmth of day
I saw myself; a ghost it seemed
stripped naked on the grassy floor
beneath the waning moon’s cold beams
just staring at the other shore
From far away a whip-poor-will
called lonely, just a sleepy song
it tickled in the morning chill
and broke the water’s pull – so strong
to slip into that silent space
where never lived a false love’s face
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