a short poem

starry night

I see a girl sitting in a tree
She's counting with her fingers 1,2,3
It sounds and looks kind of strange
Some might say deranged
I just watch in fear of her fright
As I slowly back up to make it right
I hope and pray she won't look at me
For there is not much to see
In fear of getting caught
I will give up and lose what I fought
We caught a glare
She knows I'm there
She has a knife
Goodbye, starry night.