It should’ve been a celebration, not strife—
asparagus had the woman beside me chirping tonight.
I’m telling you, our nuptials seemed destined
for a fight—till I was caught in that blushing light.
A big peach moon was on the rise,
the glow of its shine caught in my eyes.
Hanging down low and ripe for the ask,
I leaned back in awe, seeming to bask.
She asked me, “What’s the grin about?”
though no words dropped from my mouth.
Curious, she turned around to see
what in the world had gotten into me.
“Ah,” she said, ********* her ring,
and in her eyes, I saw familiar twinkling.
I placed my hand upon her shoulder;
she slid her chair a bit closer.
Savoring wine and its fermented sweetness,
I wondered where night might lead us.
One thing’s for sure—I’d love to take a bite,
reaching across that starry-eyed sky.
—•0•—
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 11:20 PM UTC
It should’ve been a celebration, not strife—
asparagus had the woman beside me chirping tonight.
I’m telling you, our nuptials seemed destined
for a fight—till I was caught in that blushing light.
A big peach moon was on the rise,
the glow of its shine caught in my eyes.
Hanging down low and ripe for the ask,
I leaned back in awe, seeming to bask.
She asked me, “What’s the grin about?”
though no words dropped from my mouth.
Curious, she turned around to see
what in the world had gotten into me.
“Ah,” she said, ********* her ring,
and in her eyes, I saw familiar twinkling.
I placed my hand upon her shoulder;
she slid her chair a bit closer.
Savoring wine and its fermented sweetness,
I wondered where night might lead us.
One thing’s for sure—I’d love to take a bite,
reaching across that starry-eyed sky.
—•0•—
My wife loves a lunar event. This poem celebrates one such occasion when the moon took her breath away.
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