A shimmering ball of golden heat,
Would burn the bottom of your feet,
It's smell of freshness outter space,
Shadows carve out it's smiling face.
No builders yards or moving cars,
No manmade light just that of the stars,
No smoke or fire or killing sprees,
No global warming no ice to freeze.
Just a moon of calm and peace,
Just the innocence it does release,
It's silent and still no worries or cares,
It's a wonder people haven't migrated there.
It shines on the earth when we're in bed,
Above the trees you can see it's head,
It is silent and shiny it remains so still,
To migrate there I think I will
Vicki Wroe, 17 (c)
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