The moon is big and plump and shimmering white, three-quarters of the way up an ultramarine sky. I feel its pull-- real or imagined-- and gaze, lazily inhaling curls of grey smoke. A light goes out, somewhere behind me-- a window suddenly dark. I can't tell which one. When I'd stepped into the night chill, my attention was caught by that one brilliant light. I had eyes for little else.
The darkened entrance to my building allows the glow of the sky to intensify, but I suddenly miss the coziness of that disappeared light in a window. I take one last, long look at the moon, stub out my cigarette, and head back to my warm apartment.
It makes me ache, this string of words.
Thanks for lovely aching, even-lovelier-Roo.
Posted by: Deb | January 04, 2011 at 11:49 PM