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.