the full moon

As I stood there, almost for an hour, staring at the inexplicable beauty that shone like a bowl of liquid silver filled to its brim reflecting rays from an overhead flourescent lamp, undecided, I realized that something was missing in the picture. That night the lunar beauty was a poet's perfect inspiration but it didn't seem to be working for me. What was it that was missing? A mild wind was blowing. As the cold air encircled me, filling the pores in my skin, lifting me as if affecting my buoyancy, thoughts of her descended on me, transpiring me to a world unearthly. As my brain redrew her face, with that sweet smile that she always had when looking at me, the decision was made. Finally I dialled her number. She picked the call and I asked her to come out to the balcony and see it for herself. Yes, that was it. As I imagined her, standing on the balcony of her apartment, filled with awe, gazing at the full moon, I found the missing piece. It could not have been more beautiful. So serene, so pure. I couldn't have asked for anything more.