The art show had its vague appeal,

But when the Starry Night appeared,

The rest were swept away.

The beauty of a cosmic drop of dew,

Blown by a chilly wind,

Frozen in a scattered fractal

Of a snowflake on its way to fall

At night.

And as the Morning Star shines down

From the east,

And the moon wanes,

I fall for you over and over.

Ever falling through the Starry Night,

Ever my windblown hair and fair eyes

Captured by your brush,

The strokes of your pen,

You draw your blue notes on my skin

For me to play on my guitar.

The Morning Star rises in me again,

And I wish for you.

-jenn