The Man in the Moon

When I was a child,
I thought that the man in the Moon
Sat on the left,
Wearing a crown.

What the hell
he was doing at that table,
I could never tell.

No longer a child,
I know that that is the queen,
With the freedom to peer
Into black squares and white alike.

At her lap is her book,
Always on the third page,
Set in stone,
And she writes all that she sees.

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