‘neath the celestial sky

To fireflies I whisper,

They hum our songs with yearnings soft and spur our souls.

Like golden confetti 

they gyrate lost in trance,

They hover until twilight  ‘midst the willows tall.

Bashful stars shy away 

screening breaths of passion,

The argent moon reflects our love with beams sublime.

With the fond rendezvous 

we crave stories lifelong,

A shooting star appears to seal our dreams with hope.

***