Emerald Shooting Stars

A truly magical, magically true ballad

For a girl with emerald eyes...

I watched the sky tonight for shooting stars,
For falling planets, shooting meteors descending:
She wanted wishes, Earthly Goddess, who’s the center
Of any Universe; my Universe of Art.

The waves were splashing their Atlantic moon sonatas,
I watched intensely for the promised falling wish,
Then thought of her and grew a little wistful,
Romantic, philosophical and nautical.

What shall I do with all these shooting stars
But lay them at her feet, ablaze and tired?
From being such a tyro I retire
And stop this silly human humored farce…

Perhaps it’s time I wrote her a ballad
That brings the planet deftly to her feet;
Perhaps it’s time I ran so swift and fleet –
To win this girl a wreath to grace her hallow.

Perhaps the clock has struck its fateful chime
To write an era’s epic, no lying;
Each line – a lion’s grace and strength, aligning
With emerald eyes of hers: enchanting, graceful, kind…

Perhaps it’s time I grew forever young,
And she – forever beautiful and younger
It’s time I caught the stars with avid hunger…
Perhaps it’s time we wrote, waltzed and sung.

I watched the waters and the skies for shooting stars -
They didn’t fall, celestial silly bodies;
I wondered at my cleverness and folly,
At her perfection, grace, enchantment, art.

Perhaps it’s time to fall without restraint -
To fall for her, for languages, adventure;
Perhaps we’re that eternal wonder-engine,
The Constellation-of-Perfection bound train…

Perhaps it’s time to lavishly create:
For me, for her, with her, for Earth – together,
Create the future, present, past and weather;
Create the history and stories, love and fate…

Perhaps I’m slightly drunk on love and wine,
“In vino veritas,” – an old explanation;
But that’s a truth so gray, passE and ancient…
The truthful truth is in her eyes of emerald wonder.

Perhaps it’s time I ended off this chant,
This silly chat, - the moon was hinting slyly…
So what if I’m in love, and falling, sliding? -
That man is dead, who passes up his chance.

I watched the splashing waves and wavy skies
For shooting stars - they didn’t come, oh bother!
I watched for half an hour, another
Until these skies were spinning in my eyes…

But, silly poet: what’s this din and noise?
The stars are there: so emerald, profound –
They’re in her eyes forever to be found,
And at her feet are laid, with wizard’s poise.

Those emerald stars, so erinine* and graceful,
The magic stars – a million wishes each,
Surpassing treasures of Arabia and Egypt,
Those emerald stars upon her dear face…

*Erinine – linguistic root uncertain. Perhaps Latin, Greet or Etruscan. Means enchantingly beautiful and kindly demanding.