Stars do grow weary and old their own years they have forgotten too long in suspension in the ethereal cold tedium and angst in their hearts have begotten.
Tonight under the dim sky hours I've stolen my past suddenly resurrects and my life's story is retold my youthful dreams she had once faithlessly broken to emptiness and melancholy only my tears now alone I hold
* a friend wrote to me about 'stars; which inspired this poem. After Shelley