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Ode to Alba Luna

Long before the working world

Has yawned and stretched and held a cup.

The artisans of retail food

If not awake are waking up.

To leave the house while still so dark

Is not a pleasant thing to do.

Time for sunrise later on

The morning moon is still in view.

Snuggled deep within the covers

"Normal" folx will never know

The freedom of the blinking stop lights

And the warmth of Alba Luna's glow


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