Ode to Cathy Claire

The Sun rises with he name on its lips, and sets with a sigh.
For it can not outshine her inner beauty, nor warm a heart like her smile.

Likewise the Moon waxes in vain, and wanes in disgrace.
For despite all its loveliness, it can not compare to her cherubric face.

For no heavenly body could ever truly compare,
to the gracious lady, Cathy Claire.

Copyright 3/8/96 by Dan Sharpe.

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