Maybe after all is said and done
we’ll sit down, for a cup of tea
and laugh and cry, about
what could have been
to talk about how
in my moonless plight
you would sometimes, loan me
your star, for the night.
.
We trusted so firmly
in the cloudless sky
and moved, into paper tents
so tall and so dry
and maybe someday,
over that cup of tea
chunks of you will sit down, to dine
on chunks of me.
