Tell-Tale Signs of What Belongs

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A midnight figure
Dressed in silver
Stars all a-quiver
Wind all a-shiver
At the presence of mystery
A faint, faint memory
of something that does not belong.

Days leaning sideways
Cracks crawling wideways
The alleys and the by-ways
Reach ever always
At the promise of mystery
A swift, swift destiny
That feels that it could not ever belong.

The moon's going under
The sea is a sunder
The winter breaks through summer
And the days grow ever longer.
At the foreboding of mystery
A tell-tale travesty
Wrapped up in magestry
Just where it belongs.





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