The moon...

Sometimes I think you are here. A second away. A breath. A glance. Around the corner. But then I turn, slowly, convincing myself I'm wrong, but hoping I'm right.

I look, I peek, I hold my breath and then,
darkness,
nothing,
a slap in the face,
a reminding shake.

It seems that I am not a quick learner after all. Hope doesn't abandon me for long, and why I know not. Hope comes and goes as she wishes, inflicting herself upon me when despair has almost conquered all. And I'm saved.

White, peace, a secret look,
slanted eyes, the left side of the lips upturned, deep breaths filled with thoughts.
Hope is here right now, feasting on my desires, and taking up residence inside.
The heart, fluttering, swirling, impeding the thoughts of logic and reason that can't seem to resist

I'm wishing
I'm praying
I'm hoping
I'm waiting

I whisper my wishes, unfamiliar, but sweet to the wind, which takes them as it's passengers, hostages, visitors
moving swiftly, quickly, over the hills, through the trees, on the autumn leaves
which fall to the ground when the wind stops
along for the ride
wishes
have
arrived

all my love.