“I.. I can’t.” His hand slipped out of hers and carried to the stars. “Look at them!” He said, turning away and pointing a shaking finger at the sky. The girl still sat, perplexed and asked, “The stars?”
“Yes the stars! But how they shine!”
“The stars have always shone.” The poor girl looked confused and nearly hurt, the shimmer of a tear might spurt.
Said He: “If we sleep another night on pillows made of shame, will the morrow shine the same?”
“YES!” She cried, as she leapt beside and seized upon his arm. “I mean NO! What shame in this, our love, could be such twinkles that I’ve seen could see and falter in the new day come as moonlight gives to setting sun?”
From gaze to stars the man looked down and saw upon the face of light a wondrous sight that made him pause and take a breath of fresh.
“You,” He whispered, staring, eyes-connect, “Are always what you are to me, that very thing you mean to be, but cannot ever be complete, while I’m with another.”
“Thankyou,” She said, “Now I see the light.”