She was sitting by the window,
the night the moon fell down,
she was watching the stars go streaking
across the smooth black sky,
like long-legged creatures
skimming the surface of the water
the night the moon fell down
He fell from the sky
and his half-shadowed face
glowed pale in the streetlight
his icy blue eyes
glinting coldly below
the window where she watched
the night the moon fell down
In his eyes she beheld
the anger and fear
that he felt, and he shivered
here on the ground
At last he saw
with a last glimmer of hope flaring to life,
the sun tinge pink the horizon
the shadows appearing
Their criss-crossing patterns
weaving up to the gray,
cloudless sky
and he climbed them,
like twisting, thick vines
while she watched,
from her window
in wonder
He climbed to the top, looked back with a grin,
saw her, and waved,
and she waved to him
before he reached into the still-dark sky
and grasped
a wisp of something invisible
that carried him up,
up, up, and away,
to the sky where he lives to this very day
And to this day she sits at the sill,
watching the sky,
and the stars skim
the dark surface that shimmers
with light and with hope
She is sitting by the window,
the way she was
the night the moon fell down