The sun laments your radiance,
the moon your tenderness.
Stars sputter in night's nonchalance,
I your easy forgiveness.

Crickets sing their last song,
Until their souls rot.
I promise my last wrong,
know that it is not.

She'd sell her husband, then her sons,
A badge, a flag, another to run.
From hopeful faces, young and proud,
To flickering ribbons, asleep and sound.
She dreams of the spangled banner, red, white, blue and true,
Reaching for the stars, never a truce.