Gleams from behind a tower block
So long before its visible again
I start to think it was lighting
And then we turn to face it
Shining
Above the thick dark water of a canal
Slap slapping the banks
Reflected there, still, in the lapping
Large, misty, low in the autumn sky
The waning moon.
Fixated.
Dappled by tree branches
Framed by a crane
Dips behind the buildings.
I was once told by a four year old
That as long as you can see the moon
Its ok to be outside in the dark.
Its ok.
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