My Favorite

a poem

I saw you last night.
You surprised me,
you kept hiding away and coming back, showing  off,
and secretly touching my palm.
You were wearing your old wild spirit,
wandering freely and out of this box filled with people and thoughts.
And that’s when I love you the most,
when you are  . . . alone,
whispering, begging me to slow down,
alone,
shouting, asking me for help,
alone,
gold and imperfect,
alone,
dignified, giving me my space,
leaving me in my sky, while you drown in your own,
and that’s what makes you
my favorite moon.