I can't recall the time nor place,
clouds drift across my memories now.
Between them unfolds this scene:
My little up stretched hand in yours,
My sight uplifting, leaping
to and off your other hand
promise pointing to the stars
and far into space.
Shifting clouds again...
The Moon's peering
through tree branch cracks
And there you are smiling,
now looking down and back...
And you're gone.
It all fades off, the scene is done.
Every time I replay it all,
it was your smile
and not the Moon,
which lights your face.
