To me, I see no inclination
That you would lack a constellation
Whatever the heavens made of you
(Of their test, you made it through)

For nothing makes me understand
The patterns I can see at hand
Under skies, I simply see
The many ways you bury me

Wisdom, made a simple truth
(Not very, though, for even youth
can find no shelter, as though they wane
your stars so bright, appear as flame)

As to my eyes, you always took
The put-on semblance of a crook
Such a facade, to bring skies down
Marred your beauty to impress a clown

If looking up, I should find
You hide behind a star, resigned
I'll take a moon and reel you in
So you'll be back here once again

07/26/2005

Author's Note: After recieving excellent help, the meter is now even. I'll call this finished for the time being.

Posted on 07/27/2005
Copyright © 2025 Corey Lockaby