Nina

“Do you remember the night the moon dropped from the sky?
And we ran through the forest to find where it lie,
I was tripping on tree roots and slipping on snow,
You were holding my hand sayig not to let go,
When we found it at last there were twings in our hair,
A rose on our cheeks and our breath in the air,
And the words to describe it got caught in our throats,
As its silver light danced through the threads of our coats,
We knew that our eyes had not seen such a view,
You were looking at it,
I was looking at you.”
― Erin Hanson