I’ve loved you all along, whispers the sun to the moon, her voice a tender caress of warmth and light. As she descends the sky, blushing in hues of crimson and gold, she casts one last longing glance at the moon. But tonight, he is only half-there, a sad waning hemisphere that neither listens nor hears.

With a heavy heart, the sun tucks herself into bed, her light dimming as she slips beneath the horizon. In the next room, the stars, ever the guardians of the night, block their ears and sing lullabies, trying to drown out the sound of her muffled sobs. They know the pain of unrequited love, the ache of a heart that yearns for what it cannot have.

Yet, even in her sorrow, the sun holds onto hope. She knows that tomorrow, she will rise again, and perhaps, just perhaps, the moon will be whole once more, ready to listen, ready to hear. Until then, she dreams of the day when their love will no longer be a whispered secret, but a radiant truth for all the universe to see. ❤️

©️ Beatriz Esmer