Always numbered the days till full moonrise. Tonight she soars up, full of honey and wine. The setting, air, light and music join to compose magic, even the purring cat lends. My little patch of the planet, my home- me swinging the world by the tail. Yet this good life, this achievement ails. Quick, can you see it? That wraith or shade, always in the corner, always just out of sight. Presence so felt, yet it hasn't substance, this phantom. The name of this aloof demon, why it is Lone. Conceding not to stature, gender or place, it delights in nudging one's conscious to take measure of the heart. Tell me Lone, why must you spoil this night? Why must you taint my special moments, how large or small, no matter? Tell me, is your joy to sequester? I tell you Lone, no need of your prompts; for well I know - I'm alone.

Nice write. Welcome to the site