Lyretry

 

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Once Captured

She is but one
The moon—The sun
Twirling around
Never touching ground

A crisis averted
Her being asserted
To no one with touch
Not given to such

 
Holding on tight
And try as she might
The one that stands before
Has seen through the lore

 
The capture was done
She had gone and come
He came to the belief
Her beauty to release

About G.Edward Smith

A stranger in a strange land...
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