o’ dearest moon
even when the Ocean hasn’t seen her in days
yet knows she is still there
as his waves twist and curl in visions of her hair
he continues to wait the time
when once more into the night she will climb
to share herself in her way
At least that’s what the letter would have read if she had opened it.
Like all the other letters she quickly collected it and placed it into a box, which she then slid under her bed with a swift kick. Tissarakkhā went quickly to preparing dinner, Tāy would be home soon and she wanted to surprise her. Before boiling water she grabbed a rusted kettle to see if there was any mark on her cheek still but couldn’t see anything through the time on the metal. Rubbish she said out loud to no one in particular and tossed the pot aside.
A purr from outside the door told her Tāy was home.