Gentle river, Rippled all across it's bank. Two pair of eyes penetrate it's surface. A pale hand comes out. It wants to touch the sky. The lips want to kiss the moon. But the fingers retreat. A head of long golden white hair flows in the bank. The eyes are now blue like the sea. The fingernails are clear as colorless glass. But this creature then dips back down into the lake. It's tail flukes gently before leaving.
This happened on the first night.
She appears again. Her head pops out of the water. Her eyes only notice the moon. I don't hide as I watch her. Her head is posed in a 45 degree angle. A perfect picture of beauty.
That was the second night.
On the third, her hand was perched on her chest and her neck stretched to the moon as her voice ascended. The song was rung by the gravitational pull as the waves carried the voice to the moon. I couldn't breath as I wished to be that moon.
She then disappeared for two days after...
Once she came back, another hand was perched in hers. But was the opposite of her. It's large hand took her small hand whole. It's eyes were pale as clouds. It's hair dark as any black hole.
But it had no tail.
That day, she finally saw me. As I looked at her with a stricken heart.
She put her hand out to me.
She sang me a song.
But I couldn't reach her.
I couldn't even touch her.
As I was the one,
The lonely soul,
Standing on that moon.