With utter disregard for the possibility of being the new witch to burn at the stake, I’d admit the moon makes the rest of you girls look bad. She draws me out of the hous at odd hours and keeps me staring at her form; awed by her innate charm that draws me into her affairs. Even with a hot beverage doing the rounds in the living room, i still remain the moon’s sweet and loyal sidekick. Words, though, like nets, can cover but just as much as they can hold. They don’t give you my heart’s exuberance. The abrupt adrenaline rush when my thump-thump leaves my body and hides right along with the moon for a short, quick romp when the clouds come over.
Then? Cold. I feel like a bottomless pit of loneliness. Whole of me huddled in the dark like Grim Reaper; with a bottle of home-made lemon juice as my scythe and nothing to please the eyes but the trees and power lines that make up the familiar horizon of home. Heartless. The smidgeon of agony. Short-lived though. Dark clouds always are. For soon, the moon rips free of the grip, my heart jumps right back in place and plant a grin on my face. Wait! A smirk. As if no one knows about the romp. Naughty!
But, ain’t the moon awesome? How we voraciously consume her ‘bright’, yet, yes, she has vivid dark patches. She chooses to spread her light; yet leaves her flaws, in humble acceptance, for all and sundry as they may choose to see. Can’t we be like the moon?