Under a pitch black canopy

Strewn with millions of stars,

A light breeze whispered past,

Breaking the silence.

Not a silence for lack of conversation,

For words were spoken

And thoughts conveyed;

But rather all that transpired around them

Seemed to have gone still,

And time transfixed.

Passing cars, and rambling pedestrians

Had all faded away into the periphery.

 

Under a pitch black canopy

Strewn with millions of stars,

Hands found hands

Spanning the divide.

With eyes fleetingly obscured

By wind-tossed locks,

She gazed up

Into eyes of desire.

For decades,

He had seen this in dreams.

A moment hoped for.

A moment wished for.

A moment imagined

Dozens upon dozens of times before,

Always a mere figment of illusion,

Had suddenly become a reality.

 

Under a pitch black canopy

Strewn with millions of stars,

A gentle sway was steadied

With hand on hip,

And a brush of her cheek.

Breath, caught between heartbeats,

Escaped into a sigh

As lips finally met.

Her arms around his neck,

His hand in the small of her back,

They pulled each other close,

Held one another tight,

As if too loose a grip

Would mean losing life itself.

 

Under a pitch black canopy

Strewn with millions of stars,

It ended as quickly as it began.

Without warning.

Without fanfare.

In the blink of an eye,

She vanished into the ether

As if never having existed.

But she had.

She HAD existed.

And lived.

And loved.

And inspired.

The muse of dream after midnight dream,

She inhabited that space

Between dusk and dawn for decades.

And yet,

After a single blissful moment

In the real world,

She was simply

Gone.

 

Under a pitch black canopy

Strewn with millions of stars,

He dreams.

 

Under a pitch black canopy

Strewn with millions of stars,

He waits.

 

Under a pitch black canopy

Strewn with millions of stars,

He stands.

Alone.