In the Moonshine

Chase me up

Into the heavens

Condensation 

From the clouds

On our eyelashes

Turning our hair silver

In the moonshine

The cartoons say

You can sit atop them

But here you just

Fall through

Unless we look out

For each other

Always touching

A grounding hand

In hand

On shoulder

Ascending higher

Past the edges 

Of atmosphere

Into space

Into void and vacuum

Until we can float

Without fear of gravity

Onward

In the moonshine