Eons ago on a light scattered night
I beamed at you as crickets descried
You mentioned, “from all, just you tonight”
As we sat on wet grass to witness the skies
Stars many, we each loved since then
Burned in glory, their might well spent
Skies wept and blindness fell
You turned and spat, “You burn next”
“I am too cold to burn”, I said
Grass is wet, or did you forget?
When we first sat, I was not a girl then
Don’t make me one now, not you too, not like the rest