We met under
broken starlight; she alone was my
moon that blessed night and we had no need for any other. Shy, inexperienced, demure,
yes she was all of these things, but she was generous also to this lovesick
swain and
that has made all the difference, I recognize now.
At first we
waltzed, uncertainly, then gradually more wrapped up in the emotion of the
perfect moment which seemed to
cascade in
torrents all about us, star light giving way to a
liquid warmth like no other, we clung to one another entwined. It was astonishing that I could not feel her
beating heart, but perhaps it was
lost in the noise that was the
aftermath of our
sweet anointing from above. I felt the touch of a
bashful hand. Then the light failed altogether there, and our
mouthparts met, a
last caress which leads me now only to sigh "
Oh, the things we cannot have."
That was six days and six nights ago, and I have no idea where
she has gone off to. No time for thoughts
of loneliness and shattered dreams, however, for
soon now,
soon and very soon, the product of our coming together there in the
hair will blossom.
Our nits.