If the sky should fall for me and, from stars, make a tapestry
Mind mind would have the audacity to still drift to your smile
For all the gifts the sky could give could not compare to having lived
Within the reach of your tender lips and unflinching guile
With soft hand wrapped tightly round mine, the sky's claim to me is empty, benign
A hollow promise that would ring once and fall flat on the floor
And I would find you past these fickle things to give a foolish boy his wings
For you've given me the stars in your stare, my dear, and so much more