Late night sandwiches are a secret shame of mine. Quite often you will find me up in the witching hour slicing some leftover roast lamb to make a hearty snack. Tonight was one such night.
Not five minutes ago while enjoying my moonlit repast, I spied two young lovers ‘neath a grove of poplars. They enjoyed the silvery light of the moon together, she reading tomes unknown while he looked to the heavens and named each glorious light for her. To watch a couple such as this, sharing such simple and wondrous pleasures together, warmed my heart. I crept away quietly, as soon as I safely could, to leave them in their peace. In my haste, of course, I left my sandwich. I wish the field mice the full joy of it.