Moonshine.

The moon hangs on a silver thread
so full and so blue.
I hold your hand in mine
and we're warm, as you do.
The shadows skip across our feet
as we walk in the dark briskly.
You'll suddenly let go for a moment
and I fear that our connection has broke.
But you flick back those strands
that hang over my face like branches
and the moon is bright again.