I Want You To Write A Poem Off-the-cuff Right Here Right Now A full moon shone muted through midnight's clouds,And you were not there.There is mist on the stream that flows past our homeWhere the crawdads live and the clay banks muddied our knees.The drays of August wound their way through the wood calling out, 'Return! Return!'But you are not there. Post Comment Receive notifications Add a comment...