Rated PG 13
For Fic101 Prompt 22 Moon.
There it is
That beautiful silver disc
Drifting through the heavens,
Lying on the soft fragrant grass she looks up.
The Moon’s mottled face is criss-crossed and fractured by the branches of her tree.
Closing her eyes, she breathes deep
The scent of honeysuckle and something else drifts on the breeze.
Unknown until the memory finally settles,
Gentle as a butterfly
She moves closer to the warmth
A strong arm, a broad chest
A mumbled endearment.
A gentle kiss.