Sonnet VIII

Brush my lips with medicated kisses,
Trace my heart with your love-laden fingers.
Your arm reaches for the sky but misses,
But the hope of grabbing a star lingers.
We have crossed the line from friend to lover,
Filling the sky with carefully made lights,
Images of past, present, future hover,
Reminding me of all the tear filled nights.
Wind brushes through hair, enticing my lips,
You nudge near, whisper secrets in my ears,
Fill my head with dreams of space, rocket ships,
Flying through space, traveling in light years.
Let us go to the moon and see the stars,
Grabbing a handful to store in glass jars.