She had the moon in her hair

I'm sure its beams played there

because they loved her too

transforming their own grey light

indeed

transforming light itself

from that smile of hers

into noon at midnight.

She sat there in moon-white

her dress a sliver-white

asking if I had a girl friend

her voice parting the Carolina night

and I reply

"No, not now..."

"You and she..."

her voice trailed off

and I could only let

silence

invade that space

flummoxed

by that question

unable to speak

because what I wanted to say

was that I loved her

but could not;

she too embraced that silence
judging

she had been forward

taking my silence for embarrassment

or worse

lack of interest

retreating then behind

that silent shroud

we all sometimes

draw over ourselves

when emotions are in doubt.

Her father called then

and I rose

to leave for college

that very next day

never seeing

her again.

Opportunities

its seems

become real

only when

we are prepared to leap

into the moonlight

dark

and embrace

silver hearts

at their beating
offering

call.