Every starry night
I look for your face.
Four imaginary lines
connecting five glimmering dots.

I relive the summers passed;
when I would look up, see you,
and know something was missing--
like Orion's Belt.

Come winter, when he returned,
he must have made you cold--
because I felt it too.
I moved away,
but ever in the sky you'd stay.

Every starry night
I look for your face.
Some call you Cassiopeia;
however, the beauty marks I know,
belong to one of another name.