Turning the empty pages
Of the book of the moon
Like being back in school
Opening those first blank pages
Of our very own notebooks
As if the teacher had given
Each of us a little soul
Newly-printed a little stiff
To write our crooked letters in
Before they became words
Impatient to be spoken
That moment the moon remembers
That whiteness ruffled by the wind
That hush of joy in the room
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