Ripples crossed the lake in rhythms only nature could produce, beautiful quests of water’s movement betwixt shores.  And there we stood.  Enrapt by sight and robbed of sound, only the moon floating across the sky kept us company.  Even that heavenly body could not resist dancing on the lake’s surface.  We, too, wished to carry ourselves on the liquid mirror that now enveloped our senses.

We were silent, you and I, and we held our ground against the advance of night.  Not even the gentle breeze was able to caress the skin that separated us.

Occasionally, you reached down and took a pebble in your hand, tossed it briefly into the air as though it were a toy, and finally sent it on its way to skip across those same ripples that so captivated us.  I watched it join the moonlight on the water’s surface, momentarily interrupting a waltz for two.  Eventually it was gone, its gamboling complete, and the lake would return to its lunar trance.

I squeezed your hand yet said nothing.  Finally, I rested my head on your shoulder as we looked on.

Neither of us required a word.  I cared not to spend a penny for your thoughts, and neither did you for mine.  Words were unnecessary.  Unwelcome, in fact.

And there we stood.  Closer we felt, and the hours passed so quickly that we failed to notice how late the night had grown as sunlight began spilling over the horizon, weakly at first but growing in strength, an early notice that the sun would soon begin climbing into the sky.  Was it morning already?

We later agreed how much closer we felt to each other then, and after.  And all because of what we shared in silence.