Fridge Poetry 42 - 37.5

The red moon lover has but

mischance to crassly

believe,

expunge,

erase,

divide,

receive,

to alleviate our ache.

Ever clever and pretty nice,

a rich man full with cunning,

not above show,

and damned with a blue tongue.

Simplest farewell there is,

a curiously sad tale

about true mortality,

and he who would question time.

Without regard, we tell of his wanton lair,

over how he was our protector,

as we only can.