4:15 A.M

I awake, drenched in moonlight and memories of you.
The window, a porthole to the sky, shows me that slice of brilliant heaven.

My lover is close, breathing softly; I pull you closer.

“Remembrance of things past.” The phrase of a poet ripples through my thoughts, leaving loud echoes of our time together in its wake. Transported, my feet stand on the flagstones of your balcony, my crescent moon now the large, waning sphere of yesteryear, flooding us with light, illuminating desire, exposing emotion.

Like time, the scimitar moves on; my window darkens, my skin is no longer bathed in its light. I turn, searching for a glimpse of silver; but like you, it is no more within the reach of my sight.

But outside, as within, the essence and the glow remain.

Keeper of Dreams