The yellow mother's eye burns up there.
Everywhere night lies like a blue cloth.
There is no question that I am sucking air.
I am only a little picture book.
Houses capture dreams of motley sleepers
As though in nets in the windows.
Autos creep like ladybugs
Up luminous streets.
Moonscape
Alfred Lichtenstein
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Poem topics: mother, night, blue, question, picture, book, capture, yellow, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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