The moon descends and sits where she once lay so close, rocking to sleep, I, like sand so fragile in its hands. Singing away at me with soft syllables and delicate rhymes, softer than I remember her kiss—wild and ensuring aftershocks that were almost too much to withstand—lost in the words of the moon's rain song. The pitter of sweet remembrance and patter of painful farewell.
Goodbye, my dear, you've left only an imprint upon my sheets leaving pools of recollections that have spilled from my eyes. Rocked to sleep, I, by the moon and the lingering petrichor of you.
Tags: healinghumanitymoon