Nicte Canticum

The stars shone, danced,
Performed a ghastly evening show,
Tea light ballerinas trapezing upon
A secret, shadowy stage.

The moon whispered secrets,
Secrets he only trusted me with.
He quoted his unrequited love for the sun,
And how his heart ached for her.
He wept tears of fiery comets,
With tails so bright and so immense,
I thought they might tickle Her cheek.

The wind howled, begging for affection.
The trees whistled a solemn tune.
The flowers wilted, and the city streets croak.
And, somewhere, the nightingale was silent.

And I, a sad and lonely soul, wept for them.

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