A gift for Grace

Cassiopeia weeps under the weight of dreams,

the shimmering eyes of the dead,

or of those who simply refused to be born.

’Neath a spider-web of stars,

an empty hammock will twitch in the breeze,

a gentle shift in the glorious patchwork of time.

A thousand years from now there will be seen,

hearts turned to dust, myth,

constellations reborn.

Just a rearrangement of souls, time,

lights snuffed out, arrows snapped,

flags torn and tattered.

A gift for Grace, the paper is plain, folded,

you finger the bow, twirl it,

but she has already left.

#poetry