As the moon doesn’t call for the gaze
Yet wins the heart by just being there
By pouring its silent nectar on the land
Held steady by an unseen, eternal hand.
She moves in life in a quiet, radiant way
A woman formed of grace and majesty
Her spirit is the twilight’s softest bloom
That lights a silver candle in the gloom.
Full moon’s sis with shimmering tresses
And mirror to the goodness of my skies
The mercy of the heavens fills her eyes
More she gives, more her splendour rise.
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