by Roland King
A celestial romance
|I handed her a purple satin bag.
Her palm outstretched as though ready to catch
as she excitedly, almost clumsily
struggled to reveal its contents.
I stayed her hand as I leaned in to help.
Her eyes widened and with a gentle gasp
I see her heart blossom from behind the smile
on her lips as it slips
into her hand.
Its iridescence and pearl-like glow stand
out against the soft mocha of her skin.
For a moment I am left staring at the many contrasts.
My eyes trace the palm lines of her beautiful hand
darkened like pencil shading in a delicate sketch, and these
hands that have held mine so many times before are
tipped with fingers only fit for fluttering over piano keys.
And the moonstone sits in this hand I love, looking like a
piece of the moon she worships day in and day out.
and which I too worship in my own way
for she is my moon and my stars and the dark
infinite expanse that encompasses my love.