Round and looking ripe
Yellowish and no hint of stripe
I gaze at it like I did so many times before
It removes my sadness and life’s sores
The moon, she gazes back and smiles
Even when I’m away for miles
She knows me
She sees me
She says hello.
Such a strange moon
My Writing Journey
My Mind Mappings
the literary asylum
songs unheard by the poet next door
A place to spill your thoughts through words.
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"Hotel of the Broken Hearts" / Editor: Michelle Ayon Navajas
Maria Michaela Poetry 