Jacque Hardison (02/11/1993 / Culver City, California)
It is a silent night.
Around the time when the sun sleeps.
The stars wake up from their slumber.
With this wind roaring out its cry.
The moon tends to be nice and bright.
His light is rejoiced while the sky weeps.
It is then the stars and moon remember,
How the Earth is low and they are up so high.
The moon looks at the Earth moves left to right.
The pollution that creeps,
The astroids divided in number,
But the question is why?
His light will shine forever more.
While we the masses look in awe.
Let us open our doors
And see what his light will draw.
Comments about this poem (Moonlight by Jacque Hardison )
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