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By Shannon Trotter

I must


sit in the evening

                on a pink moon blushing


see the aging sailor

                his brown beard speckled white

                like a seabird whose wandered

                a bit too far inland


hear the cries of oh my!

                from a gentle mother

                who tidies her apron

                as children run past her

                faster with grass stains


at every passerby,

                wait for them to realize

                that I am not a stranger

                glaring at them

                from across the sky,

                but a young poet

                with a glistening eye.

Shannon Trotter is an Arizona State University graduate with a BA in English Creative Writing. She currently resides in Arizona and is presently working on submitting her poems and flash fiction pieces to literary journals. Shannon loves to play guitar and read as many mystery novels as she dares.

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