“Doesn’t everyone want to capture the moon?” She smiled enchanted by some kind of magic. “I wish I could just reach up into the sky with a magic, butterfly net. Bring the moon down to earth and hold it in my hands… a dazzling, golden ball of mystery.
“That’s what I do through the lens,” he replied. “It’s the closest I can get to taking it home.”
Meanwhile, the moon retained it’s secrets… watching, waiting, longing for the humans to return. It was so lonely just hanging up there in the sky.
“All I have left is their footprints”.
This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishof Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz