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What are you waiting for?
My nights are lonesome,
Even more are the stars
They blink unto themselves
And the dying moon, in my sky
I create numerous paintings, with
Falling stars and congregations of monsters
On virtues of having a world within the grasp of a mind,
In the mind of a poet, like my dreams.
I see everything, in the night,
While watching the dying moon!
Poem by Tammy C.
