Leaning on the cold glass
window to the lake
water hardly breathing,
the stillness anticipates
the coming of the moon.
My mind weaves
thoughts of you.
Around the shore
lights twinkle
reminding me
I am not alone.
Others have held out
waiting for the moon
to slip across the night sky
and grant a lake dreamer
one special wish.

Perhaps tonight,
it will choose me.

Originally published in Palabras 1.0, Fall 2004

Christy Mendoza - Christy is a former Instructor of Theatre at CCC and is the
Director of the Cultural Arts Series.

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