I have come again to proceed down the wooden aisle, where at the end you wait where the Moon meets the water. And the gentle light, made gentle only by that beloved, reflective orb above me, streams down to wash my mind clean of the day’s troubles. For these moments I am free to exist in a world of terrifying realness, the only world that may exist under your gaze, even now tempered by moonlight.
I stare into the craters and the shadows, while an image of you forms in my mind. Your hair is black again tonight, your eyes aloof. But your smile remains invitingly cruel. So much so, that I want to touch those smiling lips, but my Lord, I prefer not to be charred to ash. And so, I am content to gaze from afar, for Winter is approaching, when you will warm the hearts of those like me, who know you best in Winter.