I’ve Drafted The Moon Sickle (Drafts)
And the maps seen through its rays
I’ve drafted a bird knocking her flightful head
Against the Moon sickle edge
I’ve drafted an inward and an outward star
And it’s something one cannot turn into a painting
The colour would blur the surreal truth
Of the black and white and in between shades
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Added by Poetry Lover
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