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Moon πŸŒ™

By the harvest moon

The lover’s moon reaches out

Only to swoon

At the alter of harvest being picked out.

In a bout, the moon’s collide

The lover imposes its power

Fully intending to win and bide

His time to overpower such wonder.

As the lover reigns

The harvest gains, through pains of

The glory of feeding, with grains,

The world that’s exploding in a bluff.

By Malakkc

I'm a Canadian whose life has been interesting as I've lived in Developing countries and here. The contrast of law, order, and amenities available to us Canadians (which we take for granted, sometimes) to war torn civil wars is enormous. It leaves an influence upon the soul that cries out for justice. My poetry and writing reflect that and more.

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