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by Sam Andrus

The moon strikes half full
as I return, me and the moon.
We talk, just me and him. We
know the other half is there:
dark, away, gone maybe.
Me and him know
it is not really gone:
it goes but not really.
Patience, we will on this night
me and him be full.

Sam Andrus is an English major at BYU. He will graduate in June and continue working at WordPerfect.