When the moon rose against the velvet night, I saw him - I saw his soul and he saw mine: I saw all his beautiful imperfections he dissects every day, from his cratered skin to his slight crooked tooth. His eyes, however, no one had words to match. They were as clear as glass, they held the sky with care.
Spring breezes are swirling around our ankles and through the fibres of our clothes like the tidal waves.
He could hold moonlight in his eyes and he said mine held the earth in all it’s soil and sandy shades of brown. The stars watched in their constellations, as we danced in their presence to no music, and he called me Lunar.