Day 695, Echo of the moon.

Day's pictures, Poetry

Day 695-1

This house where I sit is silent and only the moon echo’s the light.

Grey are the shadows inside, slowly finding their way, moving away.

I stair and see the dust caught by the moons darkened reflection.

The particles move without purpose they only know to go down.

Forced by the pull of the mass is what they obey, it’s the calm they prey.

They stay there till one day I may leave my print or brush them away.

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