Sun and Moon
Best it to sleep before the sun shall rise, rest my head on top the pillow that has held
my youth and soften face, it's linen losing it's mending threads, for my growth of time
has made it age. And yet, it keeps on resting without the need of renewed girth, for the
spill of my own thoughts, have been filling since my birth. Such a race is every day, the
sun against my eyes. But I shall beat him, for every night; the moon converts my sighs...
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