Every day in the early morning moon, he walks towards his place of work.  He enjoys the walk, the breeze in the air, the smell of the flowers in the park.  This time of morning is quiet.  The gardens are calm.  The dew on the rose buds and the mist of the morning create magic for the day. 

Each day at the bend in the pathway, opening to the beds of yellow and pink flowers, she is always there, where she always sits and watches the sky.  He can hear the sound of the film from the moon at night.  Capturing her beauty as she smiles into the wind.  He hears the music of violins when she sees her. He chooses a bench two down from her to watch her before she stands and leaves with the grace of a swan taking flight from the river. 

Every morning he intends to speak, he puts his feelings in the park.  Gathering his courage to greet her.  He wanders, every morning, her story, how to make her his. 

Every morning he will curse himself for his silence, regretting his hesitation and praying for another moment, another morning, another chance. 

He will stand a minute after she has left and continue his journey to work.  A smile on his face from the beauty of the morning moon recording her.  Every evening he collects a piece of moonlight, ready for the morning.  Waiting for her to come in front of him like she did yesterday. 

Finally, he has the courage.  He arrives before she.  Taking a seat on her bench he waits for her beauty to come in front of him like yesterday.  When she arrives, she bestows him a smile of kindness.  In that moment he feels sorry for his heart, for he has found it’s weakness. 

He turns and he tells her, ‘I still wonder your beautiful story.  Still wonder your best part. I still wander your next story.  I want to make you mine.’

With cheeks of rose and a smile of honey she holds his hand and says, ‘If you leave your footprints, I'll keep you warm.’

With a smile on his face and a bloom in his heart he replies, ‘I'll leave it in black and white.’