And who has swept the stars away
not one remains in sight?
Too eager with their bristle brush
they’ve cleansed the sky at night.
So all those clustered gems I love
which give me peace of mind,
are huddled in an unknown place
that torchlight can not find.
A canvas stretches end to end
devoid of silver light,
the moon has left those sparklers gone
will no one hear my plight?
If I should ask or make a wish
or plead for compromise,
will someone spare two tiny stars
and place them in my eyes?