The Bard ruined stargazing, ‘tis a fact, ‘tis true,
John Donne’s Valediction made the candles die out,
Ben Johnson’s sweet prose does no justice to you,
And Spenser writes nothing worthy of a shout.
All redemption lies in the stars above,
But soft, no twinkles show their strife,
No stars, no lights, no beacons of love,
No nothing to show the place you have in my life.
But as my eyes scan the briny deep
Of black night, so dark and scary,
I see a gleam of light, so sweet,
That my heart, ‘tis no longer wary.
I watch as a lonely comet doth fly
And reminds me of you, me, and our life.