The full moon rides the clouds
Across a winter's sky
With the odd star floating in
As the clouds blow on by
The moon in all its splendour
Shines a bright night light
And I watch the airplanes fly
In formation as they go land
But the last one in line
Changed course immediately
And the coloured lights
Blinked alternatively in a pattern
I saw it stop so suddenly
And it grew in brightness
Until it flashed a blinding white light
And disappeared not to be seen again.
© Paul Warren Poetry
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