milky ways

by Allister Nelson

We lay in the field, dreaming.

“Where did we come from?” I asked. His eyes were chips of night.

He was silent. With a slow, pale hand, he pointed at the stars. A breeze stirred the countryside, sending dots of white flowers, pods swaying, to the wind.

The stars began to dance, like reflections in a pool. I gasped, watching as they mirrored the milk-white blooms. I plucked one, bringing it to my lips.

A star fell from the sky. Leaning down, he kissed me. The star laughed and said: “You ask the silliest things.” I cast the flower away.

He vanished with the wind.

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