The moon my friend
In the forgotten corners of the country side, where shadows dance,
A homeless poet, wandering with words, in a sorrowful trance,
No home to shelter, just the moon as a friend,
Whispering secrets in the night, where sorrows bend.
"Come, walk with me," the moon softly calls his name,
Guiding his steps, chasing away the silent shame,
Back to a time when the world was kind,
When a poet's heart was an open book, a sanctuary to find.
Eyes that once sparkled with dreams unfurled,
Now reflect the scars of a harsh, unforgiving world,
In his verses, his faith he holds to and hope still shines,
The homeless poet, weaving magic in his lines.
The moon listens, a silent, faithful friend,
As night fades into dawn, their journey never to end,
Through the maze of words, they wander free,
A homeless poet and the moon, in celestial harmony.
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