This is a response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt, Obvious.

Long before you and I were born and long after we are gone, the sun and moon exchange day and night in a loving ritual of enduring friendship.

At dawn, when moon is fading, tired from sparkling all night, sun arrives and wraps her in a warm, pink blanket.

“Well done,” he says sweetly, as her eyes begin to close, “I’m here now.”

He waits until she sleeps soundly before rising to shine bright and wake the noisy, busy creatures below.

At dusk, moon returns refreshed and glowing with gratitude for the good rest her best friend gave her. She smiles and a thousand stars switch on, flickering in the purple sky.

Sun bursts with happiness when he sees her, sending rays of orange and gold in all directions. He’s magnificent at this hour, but worn and ready for rest. She embraces him gently in her calm cool breeze, worried that his flames extinguish quicker with each passing year.

“I’m here,” she says, hugging him a little longer than yesterday.

He kisses her softly before slowly drifting down, disappearing in the blue velvet darkness. She blows him a kiss, a shooting star streaks across the night sky.

Nearby, a young cloud asks another, “Why do they always tell each other, ‘I’m here’? Day turns to night and night to day, isn’t it obvious?”

“Yes,” says the large grey cloud, “but it’s still nice to hear.”

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