As the golden sun sets,
My eyes tear and sparkle with joy,
The burning torture of the day; gone,
And now the white light to enjoy.
I sit at the stroke of midnight,
Eyeing beautiful stars up in the night sky,
Watching is a privelage,
Yet not to fly.
Yet my ears follow another sound,
A grey cloud is forming,
Yet my eyes visualize something epic,
There becomes greyness for storming!
Stars faded one by one,
Some vanished in a row,
For this was no joke,
Nor any show!
The most widely known star burned the cloud,
For whatever stars were left, cheered,
The night seemed so proud.