the usual moon,
set itself in the dark of your hair.
At your shoulders,
waves took on silent motion,
but I stayed quiet, having seen that before.
A second moon
lit the dampness on your skin,
making anyone who saw you, dream you.
In strange light,
the long hair down your summer-colored back
looked like tiger stripes, and seeing, I was bitten.
I could still have lied to you, then,
could still have gotten dressed, exhaled, escaped,
slipping sly across a thorn stem.
But oh, Love, how you command the third moon,
the one behind your eyes,
that leaves me thrilled, speechless, compromised.
for Words Count with Mama Zen at Real Toads. At 105 words, I blew the count again, but maybe she'll forgive me since I did such a nice job with the theme of threes. :-)