Night of the Full Moon

Every night, I count a star that I have yet to have seen onto my ceiling sky. I'm adding them like the days that come to pass. Slowly, time is accumulating on top my last encounter with you. And I'm proud to say I'm content. But I still anticipate the waning and blooming of the moon; to the night that its her fullest.

Will I on that night be able to see you weaving in and out of people's way. Will our eyes meet for a fleeting second and disappear into the shadows of clothes as though it's a mere illusion. There's something magical about the flash of a red coat. It is like waking in the morning with the lingering happiness of a dream. Magic. It is like watching almost transparent lanterns floating into the sky to become another star to wish on.

On the night of the Full Moon, will you be standing somewhere in the crowd of thousands of people, watching as I will for the blooming of fire blown flowers? Or will you be dancing with the golden headed dragons that fly above shoulders with a throbbing heart beat of drums. Ba-bum Ba-bum Ba-bum. And will I get a chance to whisper a  'Hello' before once again walking away with my friends to enjoy a night where magic can happen.

Magic.
It is like the fleeting chances of a firefly's light.
Or
The blooming of the moon.