Lit up like flames
dancing across the
round mirror of moon,

low on the horizon.

Low, the rising moon,
more sun-like, painted orange,
Reflected across your watery eyes.

You are alive, tonight.

And to be the low howling wind,
tossing your hair.
And to be wrapped up in your eyes,
warming my fingertips.

You are yourself, tonight.
You are flames.