Waxing Crescent-

The day the moon is just a sliver in the night sky is when I first see her. My moon maiden. She is a small shadow of the most beautiful woman.

First Quarter-

Once the moon begins to grow, half full, I can hear her whispers. The softest voice of the sheer woman from afar.

Waxing Gibbous-

She has drawn more near to me as the moon continues to grow. Her beauty is exemplified in the moonlight every second it grows. She is on her quest to me and I am meerly a few inches from my moon maiden.

Full Moon-

She is no longer inches away. Her skin is on mine and it feels of silk and warm embrace. I endure myself in her and wish for it to last forever.

Waning Gibbous-

But the moon said no. She is pulled away. Not of her own accord, but because it’s what the moon intends. The moon draws away with her, casting a faint shadow once more.

Third Quarter-

My moon maiden is starting to dissipate. The moon is half empty and so is she. Her soft voice is no longer heard except by the moon itself.

Waning Crescent-

Far away but I can still see her warm rays. She stands there, strips away her soft silk white gown and basks in what’s left of the moonlight during its last blissful moments. She gives me a brief tear stricken smile right before her head drops, the moon dies, and her chest cracks. Out of her unlit cracken chest bursts a flock of crows welcoming themselves into the darkness.

New Moon-

And I loose my moon maiden.