I ambled across the moonlit hillock, a book of verse clutched in my hand.
Above, the man in the moon bathed in a sea of alabaster clouds.
Then I sat on a stile, alone, just my melancholic poems for company.
The man in the moon stuffed another sugar coated star into his salivating mouth.
I clutched a silver locket in my palm, her locket.
The man in the moon stroked his bloated belly.
I missed her so. Why oh why was she taken from me so cruelly.
The man in the moon was feeling a little queasy.
My love, my reason for living, where are you now? I cried.
The man in the moon kicked a passing golden angel aside as she fluttered ...........earthward.
For a moment, a short moment, I saw her looking down at me. Then she was gone. Again. Why?
The man I the moon leaned across his cumulus cushion and spewed violently in my ...........direction.
I wandered home and took a shower.
For Sunday's Whirligig where the 12 given words are - ambled, alabaster, noon, bathed, bloated, bellies, moon, poems, lockets, leaned, kicked and stuffed