I used to long for many things. Later, I did most of them. Now they are memories. No need for longing.
These days, I long for simple things. Warm weather. Bright skies. This morning, very early — just before five — the sun was rising as the moon was finishing her travels across the night sky.
The moon longed for me. She told me so.
At least, I believe that is what she said. Sometimes, when the moon speaks, her language is strange and not entirely clear.
What do you think?