the moon was made of gold
by thepoetamongthestars
last night i dreamt
the moon was made of gold,
with a dangling halo of silver gossamer
-and i, hanging from the threads,
grasping at whispers as i fell into to the sky.
her voice,
the moon that is,
had fallen from a sweet dulcet melody
to a voice made of sugar and honey
and so i fell from the stars into her arms.
the water had risen
so many springs ago,
as water from the tears of the stone maidens
emptied into the sea.
the sky was clear then,
when only the stars blemished the midnight canvas,
and i raised my hand above the water
clear droplets streaming down velvet skin,
and touched your cold face
murmuring a soft hello.
last night i dreamt again
of your response the first night,
when you laughed
you threw your head back,
and i saw the stars ripple through your hair,
the light in your eyes brighter than a thousand flames
when you asked for my name.
you sang to me again,
your voice wrapping around my body
in glittering strings, golden and soft
and carried me up into the sky
wrapping me in a lullaby.