Therapy Bits

It began
with a boy,
barefoot in the dark,
cupping his hands like a net,
as if the moon might fall
if he reached high enough.

He climbed the roof
not for the stars—
they were too many,
too far—
but for the one silver coin
tossed carelessly into the night.

The wind whispered,
She won’t be caught.
But the boy smiled.
He had caught fireflies once,
and they too had danced just out of reach
before settling in his palms
like tiny suns with tired wings.

The moon drifted,
indifferent,
pale and perfect,
wearing clouds like veils.
Still he stretched,
not with hope,
but with need—
some things you try for
not because you’ll win,
but because you must try.

And for a moment—
a blink,
a breath—
his fingers curved
around her glow.

The night held its breath.
The moon trembled.
Then slipped,
slow and soft,
back into the sky.

He sat in silence,
light dusting his fingertips
like chalk from a vanished dream,
and whispered,
Almost.

And the world turned,
not caring.
But the boy,
he remembered.

Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge #291 – Mom With a Blog