When waxing moon crested
in sky poured from India Ink,
wisps of inspiration
tousled my golden hair
and turned my thoughts again
to dazzling soul of you.

And there came a moment,
deep breath wedged between that first thought
of your face next to mine
and sorrowful remembrance
that I must leave you, love,
to midnight’s mourning moon…

In circumference of
perfect space in time – another
dimension? – all was well,
inestimably so. Joy
indescribable welled
up from someplace within.

Grateful, I raised my arms,
eraser-board white, reached to touch
heavens that dripped fresh hope
unexpectedly. Eyes closed,
I turned full circle, praising
God, author of this love.

No matter the hell of
another day, another year,
another life without:
when the moon rose, whispered sweet
comfort, sky spilled its grace all
over me, all was well.