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Esme On The Moon


Esme On The Moon

Little Esme’s on the Moon.
You’d say,
So far away.
You’d hear cry as if
Behind a thousand miles of glass.

There she’s working with the sand,
On dunes of powdered Silicon,
Sifting the foreshore in her hand,
Measuring the grains of time, each one by one.

The singing sands sing to the sea,
The sea shimmmies for the sky,
Now shivering on the edge of Space
Is Esme, and you hear her cry

Pleading with the Universe

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