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  by Mathew Cheung  

A sliver of a moon,
A wink in the sky,
Six hours past noon,
Reflections in my eye;
A slight twinkle
Here and there,
A slight tingle
In my hair.
A red and blue stream
Is flowing down
The skyline seam,
Along the mountain range.
Have I not seen
A sight so beautiful
From a familiar dream?
But the moon was full
When I caught it's beam.
A big round eye
In the big black sky
Staring down at me
Through the cloudy
Opaque canopy
And nonchalantly
Like an old boot
Drifting in the ocean
Swaying to and flow:
Tattered and warn,
Beaten and battered
Like buttermilk pancakes
And syrup from maple groves
In slim siluettes
Swaying as they dance
With the wind
Whistling and howling
Like a pack of wolves
On a full-moon night
Sounds of a banshee
Audible blastphomy,
Caustic symphony,
Raptured sounds
Of mystery
And on the ground
Was Misery
And as the wind passed by
She cried,
She weeped
Herself to sleep.

Copyright 2002