I Am In Love With The Moon by C. Z., Norton, MA

I am in love with the moon. It's hard to explain, but it's true. Every night I eagerly await its rise and internally mourn its setting beyond the pines. I sometimes stand alone and stare into her eyes as she shines upon my face. Her moods change monthly. Sometimes, in her full splendor, she is pale, perhaps with sickness. Maybes she's just tired of rising nearly very night. Other times she's orange, an odd color for such a being.

I always watch her as she raises herself from the sleeping side of the Earth to come see me. Once she has found me, she's content and rises even higher in the sky. But, in doing so, she loses some of her prominence, or size, but never her grace. I dance in her shadows and feel nothing but warmth and grace, even on bitter winter evenings. Sometimes Nature, her mother, rebukes her and shrouds her from me in a quilt of gray. Try as my love might, she almost always fails to gain the force and strength to break through to see me standing with lonely tears in my eyes. My downcast head and heels which scuff the dark ground sway in disappointment and confusion. We have so few nights together in these woods before she loses her strength and fades to a desolate black sphere visible to none. But she comes back, she always does.

Where exactly does she fade and float off to? Surely I'm the only one for her. There couldn't be another who loves her as deeply as I do. There couldn't be another who mourns her absence and rejoices her coming as I do. I couldn't ever live without her. No matter what I do, how I've sinned, or how I've wished ill on others, she's always there. Even if she's hiding over the quilt, I know she's waiting for me. I love her now and will forever. When I'm old and my memories of life come to my eyes for the last time, she will still be there to smile on me and make sure I rest easy as I take my last breath. She will follow me to the grave and hold a silent vigil every night for me. I bet her heart has been broken by us humans as many times as there are stars, but she still shines.

I am in love with the moon and there's naught much to be done about it.