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Early Moon
This poem is short,
As the moon rises fast,
But with it comes dreams,
That will, always last.
And as it shines,
The white brilliance down,
The Heavens are silent,
The Moon wears the crown.
And as it so rises,
At half past three, that's late!
This early moon,
Fills the dinner plate.
And as we so see,
That, sensational glint,
High up in the sky,
The Moon even gives, a slight golden tint.
poem
by
Viraj Bhanshaly
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