my moon my dream my silver ship
my galleon on the clouds that drift
my sign from childhood in the sky
my silver mast until I die
my mirror cast up in the air
you seem to float without despair
so far from us who miss you here
and watch your changes through the year
vanishing to a pie crust sliver
one arrow left in God's own quiver
returning bit by bit again
miraculous, waning, waxing
friend.
I love you.
mary angela douglas 20 july 2019
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