Of Love and Light

And it was soft silver that I tasted.

Floating, high up here with the moon, in the sky, with the Night. It was sweet, soft, silver that the moon was made of, and it lingered on my tongue for a while.

My fingers I licked, but funny how the silver, soft and sweet to my tongue, lingered never-long on my cradling fingers. It fluttered away in the wind of the twilight, the dreams of man sparkling in fervor and farness.

I kissed my denied digits nevertheless for trying.

Brief.
A second in a moment; quick as a thought. I woke to the snap of fingers, and traces of pink smoke I saw, clouding his face as it faded.

The moon was still with me, though. Hanging in his eyes; shining through his skin. Soft. So sweet and soft. And when I reached to cradle with before denied digits, his silver lingered ever...

Noticed, I, something special and spectacular, missing before as I floated behind closed eyes with the late moon in the midnight sky and the blushing breeze.

That as I held truly in my hand this glowing silver sweetness, he gave me not just light -
but warmth...