The Stars

The stars are predictors- or so I’ve been told.

When people are wed, they burn bright and grow old.

Every new couple makes shooting stars gaze,

and the stars trill with glee with each honeymoon phase.

But what of the love that was whispered, not sworn?

Her hand never held, his heard left forlorn?

Does the sky ever weep, do the heavens turn red,

For the ones who love truley but must love in ther head?

I see how he holds you- not harsh, not unkind,

yet he never quite sees the depth of your mind.

He loves you, I’m sure, in his way that feels right,

yes never as deeply, as boundless, as bright.

And you- you stand with him, steady, secure,

a love ever so gentle, a love that endures.

But sometimes, your eyes betray what is true,

a flicker, a whisper, that still reaches through.

You love him, I know, and I’ve no right to plead,

no claim to your heart, no reason to need.

But still in the silence, when no one can see,

I feel it, you ache, just as I ache for thee.

But love Isn’t always about what is right,

It’s choices, and timing, it’s fading moonight.

And though for a moment, you turn and look at me,

you sigh- and you stay- loves quiet decree.

So, i will not fight, and you will not run,

We’ll swallow the words that dare to be sung.

And up in the sky, the stars softly bow low,

not daring to fall, for even they know.

Written 2-21-2025