The moon stared back
through the window
into my study and me,
pressing on the glass
so hard I thought
the panes might shatter.
The shards would be so lovely,
cutting through the twilight,
that I giggled at my desk
from thinking about them,
then the floor,
and how it would look
to clean up
with the moon still
staring, and now smirking,
down at all it had done.
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