The Poet and The Painter

Shooting stars flash like bolts of lightening
Illuminating the sky with a sense of magic.
If you blink you’ll miss it.
Take a deep breath and make a wish.
He said the best place is the cemetery.
No trees to obstruct the view.
A black sky with an infinite number of twinkling stars;
– that just might put on an amazing show for us.
We put his grandmothers quilt on the ground next to someones
“Dearly Beloved” gone too soon and never forgotten grave stone.
August is the best time of the year to be completely in awe by what
the universe can do – to flatter us, make us curious and fall in love.
He tilted your head slightly, looked into my eyes.
Took my hands and kissed them, no need for words.
We were connected that way.
We understood the power of the unspoken.

I was the poet. He was the painter.

He pointed out the constellations.
Explaining The Big Dipper is an asterism in the constellation Ursa Major.
The Little Dipper – Ursa Minor.
The Milky Way is a galaxy.
Shooting stars streaked through the night sky.
We took deep breaths, made wishes.
Held hands laying on his grandmother’s quilt in the cemetery
– while the universe flattered us, made us curious and fall in love…

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