She changes her color
so quickly from
orange to yellow
to white.

Rising up like
the specter of some
ancient and
lovely
girl stepping in
to a bright shining
beam of the sun.

And why not?

She is
after all
a kind of a maid
circling there
in the darkness alone.

Her face gazes down
at the bright
and the blue of a world
which holds her
in its grasp
unrelenting and cold
but beautiful.

Does she long
for the freedom
to float on her own
in the vastness
that wildly echoes.

Is there ever a time
when she stuggles
to fly?
Does she have
any heart that will break?

Poor beautiful thing
riding there in the sky
catching all of the wishes
that young
lovers send to her each
night as she wafts across
the dark.

Does she envy their
desperate hearts?