Observer

Photo by luizclas on Pexels.com



There are
Raindrops on my window
Shielding me from a bright blue moon that sits
Like low hanging fruit
In the late night sky.
It's not mine for the picking.
Such bodies aren't meant for the likes of me
To do anything but observe.
Yet you sit there beyond my window
Where the moon sits
Like it was made to honour you,
To light your way and lift your load.

I know, if I leave this windowsill,
Creep downstairs and
Creak the front door open, let
My toes sink into the...