Moon And Goodbye

the rude, rude moon.
she spied on us
as we said our
good byes.....
a definate beging of the end.
the death of my gate keeper
for sure.
how will the bengali, white as snow but not as pure,
survive now
with nothing left but
the limbs
on which
to shed my tears?

now i know my place.
yes sir, now i know.

by Camilla Manda Vee

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