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 lights up in the night sky,
Thousands; millions enraptured my acceptance,
Watching is a privilege, yet not to fly.
There is more to be seen,
For tiny stars are resting above me,
They call on me as to do a favor,
I am to count these stars,
Every one I see.
Yet the beauty gets more intense,
Of newer, bigger stars forming,
Yet my ears follow another sound,
There becomes grayness for storming!
Stars faded one by one,
Some vanished in a row,
For this was no joke,
Nor any show!
The most widely know star,
Burned the cloud,
For whatever tiny stars were left cheered,
The night seemed so proud.