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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Mary’s Moon

Mary told me of the great
outback moon.
Gold as distanceless space.
Born above the seawater
of the mist.
September opening its soul,
becalmed as a sail in stillness.
The marriage of summer
and fall,
with its child returning
to the heavens.
It’s a beautiful morning! She exclaimed.
The ethereal opening its eyes.
The cleansing of dreams.
A forte of happiness.
The bonhomie of love
with being alive.

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