Sometimes I miss it. But then all I can do is sit back and wonder why I do so in the first place.

There was once a little boy who wanted to hug the moon. Every day, the boy would patiently wait for the night to fall in despair of the moon’s eye on his own and wondered where he could go in order to sneak in and give the moon a hug.

He sat on this bench outside his house and stared for hours and hours on end after dinner- until mom said it was much too late and time to rest. He wondered.

A rope! A rope that’s long enough, that’s all! He smiled and smirked filled with the zest of that brilliant plan- he’d catch the moon to bring it closer and hug like he’s been yearning ever so after.

Where will I get a rope though? He asked himself.

I will connect many ropes! He answered.

And so he looked here and there. Up and down, east and west. He found some ropes and tied a knot so strong each time that his hands would turn bloodshot purple.

There stood the rope beside the boy one night after dinner and he said to himself -tonight is the night for she and I to meet at once and be together for a glistening second in human’s feeble time-

He closed his eyes and fetched the rope and held it tight and threw it as far as he could. In fact, he used so much force of power along with ****** strength that his feet were partially swept from the ground also- he floated for a few seconds as the rope flew into the air at an unbelievable speed. It hugged the moon like the boy wanted. Now he needed the strength to just bring it a bit closer to him by the bench so he could conspicuously give the moon a dear hug. He pulled and pulled and pulled until he thought his breath would die out- the moon is heavier than it seems! , he thought. But alas the moon came and beside him the moon sat, the moon not so bright stood. He looks at it and says:

“You’re not what I expected, all bright and soft and full of light like the way the stars envy you in the night sky. So deceiving you are, making me think this whole time you were exactly what I’ve wanted. Exactly what I’ve needed. How dare you give me false hope? No, you’re not what I expected. And I’m in fact so disappointed, I don’t even desire to put you back up there so you can lie to others too. You will stay here.”
And the moon there stood. Immobile. What can she possibly do? Its fine though, the world will move still. But the moon must remain still, until a hopeless leaves her to float too.

There's cheese and watermelons everywhere....and a picket fence on all the houses down the street.

"Let's come out and play!" he said to her. "Just this once, I promise!"

But she refused, she walked down the street- with her head held high and said to him:

"Can't you see I'm busy? I'm trying to find my thoughts!"

"Just this once!" He repeated, excited. "We never think together anymore..."

(Don't we?)
But she just kept walking, now past the picket fences and the watermelon trees.

She was wandering where they went to. She saw them last week sitting at her left side- but never again since.
He tried to catch up with her and hold her hand. But she roughly removed it and said:

"Let me find my thoughts alone, please."

And so the street, not so long came to an end and she had not found an idea- not one, not a lonesome thought.

But the watermelon trees were growing, faster and faster every time.

"Hey! Come help me! I need you, where have you gone?"

(I'm here)

But the poor boy left, mistreated and all- she wanted her space, that's all.

"Come on! Help me! I need you now, more than ever! I'm sorry! I don't need to think, there's no need to think. Thinking is fool's game!"

But there was no more boy. He had walked back already. Crossed to the other street and found a person to greet him happily.

A giant watermelon came from the picked, giant tree and took her by the shirt and lifted her up high and held her up and opened up its giant mouth and got a grip of her by the waist with its giant leaves and ******* seeds came as it screamed and in she went while she cried and wept.

There now, they have their space. Maybe later their paths will cross again and if they do it will be love and if its love then it is real and if its real- there’s no watermelon trees at all.