Our daily moons

At night, it will be a different ballgame
As our moon hides in the coconut trees
And big or small,be crescent or ringed,

Comparisons are day-wise in fortnight.
Moon gets eaten by an earth bit by bit.
A demon drank nectar surreptitiously

And annually eats the moon as if a pie.
Moon has turned marble like in graves
Of some old ancestors and not so old.

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About nisheedhi

Retired banker with poetry and photography as chief interests
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