Jan 11
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The sun and the moon

She had the brightest of complexions,
Bathed among the wisps of morning kindle,
The ignition of intense light sought out upon the vivid sky.
From the outside, she was golden in every way,
Looking oh so perfect amidst the clouds.
For she was the sun,
Standing proudly above.

He sat back in the shadows,
Observing her closely.
He could see the great toll it took to uphold her hardships,
To blaze the brightest out of everyone.
But her color, the fullest at day
Was duller toward night.
So the moon sat up to his fullest height
And paraded toward the sun.
Without words exchanged,
The sun knew the purpose of the moon’s descent,
A silent understanding between the two.
She steadily retreated back, but not before she shimmered bright one last time,
Directing her gratitude at the moon.
She closed her eyes to rest
And the moon called out to his star companions.
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Isabelle Chen
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