In morning’s dawn, across the sky,
a tiny light, no stranger to my eyes.
A silly-spun monopoly
of all the wishes denied to me.
And the chariots of silver veil
sputter behind a still-sun hail
where might a moment be built to last
that wishes are wished upon a broken past.
And stolen a kiss upon my lips
that mattered more than this.
As if this night is more than before,
but how could I wish for more?
I cannot fall to plea of heart; nor that which could give by no true star.