Scarves Rings and Lipstick

An Incomplete Poem

Twas a warm summer night
The moon was full
The moon was bright
And so were the stars
They danced on the night stage
One star in particular caught the poet's gaze
He was amazed by his amazement
It seemed to dance only for him
If it had eyes he would've felt them on his gooseflesh skin
It was getting cool
A light wind blew clouds into view
It could've been they were envious
He retreated indoors

He stepped out the next time
Felt as though he had been waiting a lifetime
In the night sky he found his why
The star shone at him a light
Illuminating his pen and paper
On which he wrote down words
Marvelous, heart-felt words
The poet painted the star in words
And it shone as though to adore
He doubted they were good enough
So he wrote some more
Letting his hand run wild as the heart caged
When it was time to turn the page
The star had given way to the rising sun
He went to sleep, anxious for the night to come

They would do this every night
The star would dance
The poet would write
He smiled at the star and he could've sworn it smiled back
He couldn't be sure
But he wasn't about to question his why
He simply took it all in
Captured it as best as he could
If he could pluck the star out of the night sky and place it by his side he would
For a fleeting moment it seemed selfish
Surely there were those walking by nightlight
But try as he might couldn't care bout them
He was too busy filling in the star's shape
Concluded to trust fate
With clever crafted twines
Blunt and twisted vines
He weaved a poem he knew the star would love

Twas a warm summer night
The poet scowled in search of his nightlight
In his hand an incomplete poem