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A story I wrote for a girl.
The moon is a coiled up rattlesnake, charmed into the sky by a lonely sailor on a lonely ship suffering from a lonely heart. He played a great tune in hopes that the song would be heard thousands of miles away, past the shores, and a hundred cities in, through an open window, and into the ears of the woman whom had stolen his heart. He feasts on stars and the falling comets that streak and mark the skies are the ones that got away.
Crators scarring the surface are in fact scales; bending and twisting avoiding space rocks and camoflauging the giant beast against the black emptiness during bright afternoons. If you look long enough towards the sun you can see his eyes burning red. And in the cold months of a bleak winter snowflakes frost the ground, falling from the heavens.But a close eye reveals the unique frosts are infact skin gone and dead to reveal new beautiful skin, a medaphor for renewal. And as the nights go on the sailor still looks up at the sky and smiles because he knows that she can see it too.
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