On a moonlit night he strolled for some fresh air,
When his eyes fell on her and he couldn’t help but stare!
Dressed in white, she reflected the silvery blaze,
He was lost in her beauty, she could tell by his constant gaze.
What does your favorite color taste like?
He asked in hesitation, a conversation to strike.
But silent she stood and made no way,
Assuming she was lost in him and had nothing to say.
He moved a bit closer, she drew back with a sigh,
As something bright darted straight across the sky.
A speed of light. A shooting star.
Burned bright revealing her ugly scar.
She looked at him and said, it tastes just like bitter gall.
If color had a taste of any kind at all.
Feeling rebuked by her wit and smitten by her beauty,
He replied with a smile, “Even the moon has scars but it flaunts its beauty!”
©Tracy Joan Reid