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Chosen Worf

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It's a warm Georgia night. I stride slowly along a neighborhood road, the grass still wet from an earlier rain. The houses I pass are all darkened; none acknowledge my coming or going. A waning gibbous moon beams softly down from its heavenly track: I lift my gaze to meet it. I learned in school that there is no air on the moon, nothing to hold dearly the warmth of the sun. It follows its predetermined path, slowly revolving, never resting, its closest company a hundred thousand miles away. A cool wind rustles the pine trees; and as I gaze up through them, I understand what it's like to be alone.

05-Jul-2015 06:03:42

Azigarath

Posts: 9,271 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Short, but sweet, poetic and gentle. Could easily be converted into a poem, too, I bet.

05-Jul-2015 23:06:20

Chosen Worf

Posts: 929 Gold Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

I did indeed consider a poem format, however I wrote this late at night and I wasn't confident in putting it in that form in a way that would satisfy me.

06-Jul-2015 03:10:15