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The moon wears robes of ever-shifting light,

A silver queen adrift in velvet night.

At dusk she glows in amber’s warm embrace,

By midnight dons a pale, ethereal face.

In autumn skies she blushes, red with flame,

Then hides in shadow, shy and soft with shame.

Each phase a whisper, every hue a song—

A silent tale she’s told the stars all along.