He is full and glowing, but with a dark side—
At his apex he makes me starry eyed and bright—
And every night, after we’d part,
I’d wish upon his tiny companions to keep him with me—
But with the morning, he’d be gone.
Why was he so afraid for the next day? Of me?
As the months go by, I see him in different forms—
He is a smile, a frown, the face of a clock—
And like the fingers of dawn, I always reach out for him
Because even in the last second before the night turns to day,
I’m still hoping he stays.
