Some nights, you set up the telescope. Tonight, we lie on the blanket instead.
“Cygnus. Cepheus. Cassiopeia.” Your arm follows the sweep of the sky, like a caress.
Four inches from your hip and light years away, I hardly dare to breathe.
-
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Christine Hanolsy 
Wow, brilliantly written!
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“Four inches from your hip and light years away” Love this!
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Your whole piece made me hold my breath too. Just beautiful!
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I held my breath too! Love how “light years” fits in.
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Love the last line.
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