Moonlight

Jane called late one night. She was quiet but mentioned sitting outside in the moonlight. Then, she said “I need you to read something for me. Remember that poem you wrote about watching me in the moonlight while I slept? That’s what I was thinking about as the moon was making my skin glow. Can you read it for me?”

It took a minute to dig it out of the file where I kept all my poems.

As I flipped through them, I was thinking of that night, not long after we had started spending a lot of time together. I wrote it sitting in bed with the moonlight streaming through the window covering her with a soft glow.

I found it. I was afraid she wouldn’t still be on the line for sometimes she would just disappear, but, no, she was still there.

I read these words to her.

Moonlight

The moonlight burns
with stirring awareness,
washing your breasts
and all thought of sleep
from my mind.

Unable to move,
I lay held in the silvery light
as I search for you
in your dreams.
Reaching but unable to touch.
Waiting
for your eyes to open
unaided by me.
Only my thoughts and need
to wake you.

We would fly
in the bright moonlight.

Wake, my love
and let the night fill you
with warmth and love
and me.

At the last word, I waited. No sound came from the phone, but that was not unusual with our late night phone calls. Many times she would be quiet for extended periods and then might start talking again. But sometimes, she would not. Maybe could not, due to all the emotions.

I waited and I thought I heard a faint sound, then more silence. A few seconds later she almost whispered “Thank you. Nite.” and was gone.