Is it the same moon we see?
Do you watch it roll slowly above the horizon, arcing gracefully?
I trace its path with an uncertain finger, lingering on the point where I dream our palms should meet.
A perfect intersection, a crossing of the souls. A perfect arcing destiny, straight into the heart from Cupid’s bow.
I wonder which plane you left on and if you’ll ever return. If you ever do, I wonder should our hearts meet again, perhaps under glistening Sun?
Dreams come true, if only for a night, a moment. If only under the perfect arcing moon.
PHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner
And thank you to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneer’s every week.
Word count: 100
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