That summer night we walked
together under the moon,
brighter than a fluorescent snow
globe in a Halloween window;
You told me to look up, so I did; I saw
a scattering of sun-dipped stars behind,
stepping stone to bright unknown horizons.
Later that night mist fell over a silent ocean,
and now I sit alone before a window
wondering if there is anything I could have said,
if there was anything I could have done,
and the moon a mere piece of cloth
pinned to an ink-dark sky.
Linda Rhinehart, 30, is a student, writer and translator currently living and studying in Cardiff, Wales. In the past she has lived in Switzerland, the USA and Germany. She has been writing poetry for around three years and reading it for a lot longer. In her spare time she enjoys playing piano, going for walks in nature and cats.