The Silver Moon

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Silver droplets.
A crescent moon.
Forever holds,
A starlit tune.

Golden whispers,
As moments pass.
Like soft rustlings,
In the grass.

Black masks,
Slip from frozen hands.
Through their fingers,
Like creamy sands.

White waves,
As they scream.
And disappears,
The guiding beam.

Dark days,
Lie in wait.
Pain and fear,
And reddened hate.

Bright dreams,
To greet them soon.
Dripping from,
The silver moon.

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