Pink Moon

It was a full moon this week. 

A pink moon. 

(That's my favorite Nick Drake album, you know..)

I was heading to my lovers and as I stepped out of the car I looked up and there it was.

Our moon. 

And I of course thought of you.

Once every blue moon...

And I wondered if somewhere you were looking up thinking of me. 

And then I realized where I was standing, where I was headed shook me from my reverie, and I left the moon behind me, because it wasn't ours anymore.

It illuminated my lover, my new story, my second chance. 

My sweet mulligan.

And I smiled. 

Because I knew, perhaps even to your own surprise, I knew you'd be happy. 

Happy that I was finally so happy. 

And I wished somehow I could tell you all about it, tell you everything, how the impossible became mine, how it even held my hand, how unbelievably comfortable I was.

And I thought how it's been so long. 

So very long since I've heard from you.

And how bizarre that truly is. 

But in the depths of my heart, in the quiet hours of the night, that somehow makes me happy. 

Happy not to hear from you?

Aren't we a strange pair?

Because I know, I know it means you must be happy too. 

As you can only be,

 without me. 

And as I can be 

without you too. 

And here I am, dancing in the throes of spring romance,

sending you a sideways smile.  

Aren't we the lucky ones?