A Scorned Moon
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I know we've wept a sea of selfish, childish tears,
try your best to see beyond those faded fears.
Why hurt you or me after so many happy years?
Cry not; think of how we would dance and drink a few beers,
spry as young lovers could be, sharing our hurts and cheers.
My hand on your knee; we'd oft talk till Dawn appears;
If you let me, I'll whisper love words into your ears,
nigh onto the wee hours while a scorned moon leers.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2020
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