Friday, 30 November 2012


by Robert Morschel

I stand under the moonlight, my long, sinewy arms outstretched, my hands splayed to catch her silvery rays.  She is mine and I am hers: the Lady of the Night.  I shiver as she smiles at me and caresses my naked body with cool, tender whispers.  From deep within a howl emerges, rising to my lips, and slowly I lift my head to declare my love to the world.

A voice cries through the stillness of the night, interrupting.

“Honey, supper will be ready in 5 minutes.”

Reluctantly I turn from the maisonette window and draw the curtains.

Reality calls.

Author bio: Robert Morschel is a writer of software in London, and words at

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1 comment:

  1. The last three lines transformed my opinion of this one! I feel sorry for his wife.