The Moon

I rushed to meet the full moon

As I could finally see her face

A month of waiting could not be replaced

And as the moon turn around I knew

The rock looked much like you

My imaginary childhood friend

You survived this long

You were with me till the end

I wondered how your face was never changed

From Iraq to America

And somehow it did not feel strange

To befriend the moon

Published by

strangerpaths

Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things. I am Zee

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