Lyrical v. 2

The moon looks different on the shores of these waters as we walk, arm in arm, and a shiver – a thrill – traverses my shoulders beneath my light jacket. The moon hangs brightly but the lateral gaps to which I am accustomed are not present. The moon hangs and the light shimmers off the lapping waves and the path beneath our feet. I cast back my head and laugh, the tidal pull of our emotions drawing us closer, ever closer. If I lean down for a kiss, what will the moon see? Don’t get me wrong, I’m just following my lodestar.