I recall your face pressed against the glass
Then it was gone, replaced by ass.
Round and white, a work of art.
Would have been perfect, except for the fart.
Glimmering, tumbling, went the pane.
Sound of a glass breaking refrain
in chorus with a baritone like Richard Burtons
Fluttered in the wind with gauzy curtains.
Lo, tonight's the winter of our discontent
And the moon over a window with breezy detachment
Back story: The title was generated by a random generator. I thought it would make a good Vogon Poem especially if I used "Moon" as a verb. That was the inspiration.
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