poetry
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We Caught the Moon

You: two years old and full of life;
you: never wanting to say goodnight.
And I: tired, but addicted to
that look of wonder on your face.  

Together we went out the back
and looked up into the dark sky
where we saw the light that governs
the night. It was full and bright white.  

Then, one by one revelation;
the twinkle, twinkle little star.
With each unveiling you let out
an exclamation of delight.  

The sidewalk chalk lying nearby
I suggested we draw the moon.
First we draw an “O”; a big one.
Then we simply color it in.  

It’s a good thing we caught the moon
that night. Because when we went back
a few nights later, it was gone;
the moon was all gone from the sky.
 
“Where’s the moon?” we asked. “Where’s the moon?”
We looked up to the left and right.
Then you jumped a few steps over,
bent down and pointed, “There’s the moon!”  

It’s a good thing we caught the moon
that night.  Indeed, it’s a good thing.

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