We danced
on the southern tip
of the crescent moon.
I went to dip,
but you warned,
“Too soon!”
Then we slipped
into the blackness
below.
Gravity grips
the fallen,
from head to toe.
But, here I am,
hand in yours,
gripping you tightly
as we fall.
They,
the earthbound,
call.
But, we have time yet
to embrace, kiss,
and complete
the spiral dance,
as we spin in the blackness,
spin in our void,
between the impact
and Luna’s joy.
©️ Obol, 2019.
