A Star's Kiss

Lean your head against the windowsill,

private thoughts written plain as day upon your face.

Worry for your love as the sea tosses its ships;

'tis a hard taskmaster to face,

for in the end she'll pull out ahead.

Till then you bide your time,

setting each precious moment aside

locked away in time.

Row upon row,

shelf upon shelf,

or perhaps just one tiny box;

And then comes the news,

and you have to hope

those precious few instances

secreted away

shall last you to the end of your days.