By the Banks on a Full Moon

I held her hand
before she stepped down
onto the boat.
She wore a shirt and jeans
not a gown for a queen.

As I slowly rowed by the banks
under the moon on a summer's night,
no matter how bright the moon was,
it would always envy her eyes
which I'd rather choose to stare at.

And the music of the restaurants by the banks
would always seem faint to her humming.
As she would spell out a tune as mild
as the touch of the wind
and the flow of the river.

As the moon gently sways on the river's surface,
an image forms and I reach out.
It is but a reflection;
I try to grasp like how she stood in front of me -
never meant to be held by my hands.

-dyan kay ben-
07/03/09