Tattoo

I blossomed like a wild flower
That is allowed to grow from its crack
By an ancient moss-covered rock
By softening its stoic arrogance.

I then felt a soft musical strain
Rippling through my tingling veins,
Felt transparent like the morning dew,
Adorned with the sky's ethereal hue,

But just then the moon came up above,
Making me hastily cover my *******,
Lest she should see the tattoo upon my heart
Carved by the soothing singeing of the stars.

© Portia Burton