Theres a special moon tonight, the waxing moon. I am just a girl in love with the man in the moon...as it has always been, so shall it always be. So, I write a lot with the moon in mind. Im partial to the full fat orange lovers moon, and the waning moon has a starring role in my musings. I wrote a story wrapped around in years ago..I thought Id share the beginning and the end, and since its all mushy..you can fill in the blanks.....I thought I should get organized and pack,,but the moon says take a walk on a gorgeous night, ggigle a little and hear the music play so I think I will........... WANING MOON A comma shaped stain on her cheek, illuminated by firelight under a waning moon. He saw it there, dark ash against a white cheek. He made no move to brush it away. It was an imperfection, like her laugh lines and crooked teeth. Not to be fixed, to be celebrated. She knew it was there, knew he wouldnt fix it, knew he enjoyed her flaw. There was a dancing of flames on an even breeze. There was a meteor shower in the sky. There was the sound of waves lapping firm wet sand. There was quiet. There was here and now. There was aaaahhh. She leaned back, her arms around her knees, let her head fall and gazed at the open sky, bright with stars open with simple nothingness. Such beauty. Such simple. Such knowing. This was desire she thought, this was the real meaning of passion. It was all about feeling with out thinking, about letting go and getting lost....................................................................................................................................... .............................................................................................................................................. She looked down at the notebook on the table. A journal of jumbled words. She had so many stories to tell. She had so many thoughts to think. She had so many dreams to dream. She looked at the lines written, echoes of the past. She smiled at the memories wrapped up in scribbles. She was a woman who knew herself well. She was a woman full. She was a woman waiting. She was a woman who had a simple wish. To be known. To be celebrated. To be beautifully imperfect and happily flawed. To be let be. Skimming through the pages, of poetry and stories unfinished. She happened upon a set of initials and smiled at the memory. A friend he called her. A friend that would never really know her. She smiled, and sighed the way women do when they wonder why it had happened the way it did. Why it had never really happened at all. She ran her finger across the letters and glanced at the comma shaped stain surrounding them. Coffee spilled on an early morning, watching the sunrise with a cup of coffee and a dog. She let her mind wander to a night under the sky, that was filled with possibility and remembered a waning moon.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 00:43:48 +0000
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