Moonlight
I cycled home under the moonlight, the pale blossom of starlight, the late evening afterglow, the heat of the day in cloaks and eddies of breathlessness, the last of fading shadows of an early summers day, for the lane was long and magic, stretched in curves of silver across the folds and ploughing of fields, the darkness seeping in fingers and shadows, as the night pressed and sighed, the hidden magic revealed, for there before me under the flickering patterns of silvers, the shimmering grey ripples of leaves, between the mosaics, the silhouettes of lifetimes, I saw a figure, still upon the verge of a meadow beneath an oak of trees, she was wrapped in gossamer threads of mists and moonlight, standing with open hands towards the river, that curved beneath the laden branches whispering time and the hush of hidden words, she was beckoning to the waters, the flow of life from then to there from now to come, whispering incantations and melodies of moments that seemed to pass before my eyes before they had begun. She was beautiful in the moonlight, her arms open and bare, I dismounted from my wheels, stood beside her, an earthly goddess rippling in starlight , standing, waiting for me, surprised, unexpected, meeting me there, she bade me look into the river, the flow of platinum, the deep reflections, swirls and wishes of choices and time, and then together we kneeled and took our hands and let them fall into the moving streams, she whispered quietly, softly and told me not to look away, and as I saw her face reflected in the water running in depths of laughter hours and days of dreams, we both walked into the waters and the rest of our lives it seemed
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