Last weekend, I
Went out stargazing.

I was struck
By the cold beauty of one
Lonely star, glistening
In the inky veil,
Winking at me.

Alone in her
Frigid bedsheets, she
Gazed down, like monarchy,
To I; the one who saw
Her quiet beauty.

She winked again,
Then drifted away:
A plane in the night.
So there were no stars
That evening, after all.