Sickle moon outside my window,
you're a flashlight on another world.
Crossing the cosmos, your beam will go
brushing past the soft and curled
forms of people fast asleep.
You're a night watchman, always there.
Dim and bright your light does sweep
so many worlds: Who knows where?
Sickle moon outside my window,
ball of silver up in the air.
Waxing and waning, your face will show
a bit of tarnish, but never a care
for who shall make use of light
shining through the midnight dark.
The night-watcher's everone's right:
ever present, strong and stark.
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