The moon floats nonchalantly outside my window as if we had never met - As if we were strangers. I like to think she is a bit melancholy - Hanging around in hopes of catching a glimpse of me, To see how much I've changed, Hoping perhaps, that we might swim again through the inky black night As we did so often when I was young. But I was only one among Millions of suitors and would-be Lotharios Enamored by her silvery beauty. It is absurd to think she would remember me. But I like to imagine that she still can hear the melody Of the song I wrote to her, one night on the beach As we walked together exploring bits and pieces Of our other lives And other times - Each of us a little intoxicated by the moment. Vowing we would never forget.