To see the moon rise
only to be captured
on the surface of your glasses
and grace your shoulders
with white light
like the seeds of wings
is all I can ask for,
and hope to observe.
To hold your hand
as the moon rides the curve
of a star spattered sky
and talk turns to whimsy
and wishes and dreams
like talk always turns
in the infinite eventually,
is more than I deserve.
And there in that place
we were safe from the outside
And there in that place
we had room to be honest
Here in the places
where we find ourselves
connected only by electrons,
angels fear to tread.



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