I would love nothing more. Than to dance under the moonlight with my lover. Eyes pooled with wonder. Skin illuminated, by the soft glow of moon above.
He takes my hand. And I gasp at his touch. The crisp air makes his fingertips quiver, cold in my warm palm. Clasped at the waist, I sway. Softly we move. Gliding like swans on a ravine. His warm breath makes my nose tingle, my eyes, my lashes, my lips. He leans closer, whispering softly in ear, like the wind calling to the leaves on a mild autumn morning.
'The moon is beautiful, isn't it?'
I nod slowly, allowing his peppery scent to intoxicate me. And as he cups my chin in his hands. I look up at the orb of light, it swims in the rich velvet sky. It is the pearls that adorn me. The eyes of dreamers. And I sigh. For it is beautiful. The moon. And yet it is so far. For perfection always is. Close enough almost to grasp, as though one could pluck it from it's ocean. Yet so far that is impossible to attain; lost in the depths below.
But that doesn't matter, for it is only a dream. A desire. A longing.
Instead I look up. Alone. And though I have no lover. No one to pluck me from reality. I am satisfied. For the moon is beautiful isn't it.