He looked out over the Lake. It had settled into a serene stillness and the Moon laid a silver pavement across the water.

He was tempted to walk across that pavement, but better sense held him back. Instead, he settled down by the lakeside, and sighed as a soft breeze tousled his hair.

Two drifters off to see the world.
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end--
waiting 'round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.

That scene looked like it came out of a postcard. He picked up that postcard, and filed it into his box of precious memories.

Lying down on his bed, he imagined it was grass, imagined he was looking up into the starry night sky, just Moon River and he. He smiled.

Posted in Writings in the air