Sitting on the moon

Neat as a pin. She folded her hands tidily over her lap and started whistling a strange, haunting tune. The moon smiled as he watched her, how angelic she looked.

“Come along, September, driving in October. Dreadful cloudy storms ahead, usher in November,” she sang. Her voice was melodic and pure. The stars beamed in delight at her singing and skipped from the darkened sky to rest in her soft lap. They cuddled close as she continued to smile and tweak their points.

“Drinking old Martini, drive a Lamborghini. Botox for migraines these days, let me plead a headache.”

The Sky itself drew a little tear in its being, it smiled, as the Moon flickered a thin ray of light onto her face, as if to embrace her. Silky shafts of moonlit dust settled on her golden hair.

They had hoped it would last forever. But she partook her leave with a minimum of fuss, gently kissed each of them, and then faded away into the night, flying off with her wings flapping in the air. And the last they saw of her was her golden hair, whisking away in the night breeze, whispering goodbyes that they would never forget.