You look for me in the stars,
but I am really in the space between.
I am not one star,
but the invisible lines that connect them
that create the constellation.

When our eyes meet
I was scared the color from them would drain

But instead, I'm lost in a field of grain wheat
Lost in a world where there is no pain

All I want to do is feast
Feast on the eyes that I want in vain

But we all know as soon as I look away,
The color will drain and we will be on our merry ways

You appear so frail and delicate,
but beneath your pretty petals are your thorns.

September Jane,
all but plain
standing in
the pretty rain.

Her hair is stained
with pretty rain;
umbrella left
atop the pane.

My sweet September,
do you remember
the pretty rain,
the dying embers?

The stories read
before bed,
the funny rhymes
you always said.

September Jane
where did you go?
I'll greet you when you come.

September Jane
you didn't know
it is the pretty rain you're from.

Forget me not,
or if you do,
I promise to
forgive you.

--Can if you
really want to,
if you're through
with nothing to do.