carebear

I sat on the lawn chair in the light of the moon and watched it glow.
I realized for the first time that the man on the moon isn't the shape of a man's body- it's the face of a man- the face of the moon! And after I saw his face it just wasn't the same moon anymore. It was the man.
He stared at me with an expression that only he can wear. It's caring and sad and indifferent and quiet and endearing all at once. I love the man on the moon. I stared right back at him, so pleased that we had found each other.
I turned to the young man on the lawn chair beside me, excited to tell of my good fortune, but as soon as I remembered who the young man was, I knew my insights wouldn't be well enough appreciated. I could not share the wonderful moon's manface with just anyone.
I wished then that I was either alone with the man on the moon, or sitting beside the one I will spend my life with. Surely one day I can tell him.

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go cubs!