Shall I Compare Thee to an Airplane

Shall I compare thee to an airplane 

in the night sky, amongst a field of shooting stars. 

I lie upon the grass where brisk winds pass, the

earth still temperate beneath my quiet frame; the

sky stretched as wide as an unending sea, and I,

its sole observer in the dark. 

Above, thou lies a path through this maze of

stars, thy scarlet light beams soft and slow— like

some small heart suspended in the night, a

distant pulse that unlocks something within. 

The songs within mine ears feel like a prophecy,

as though they know the temper of my heart. I

seek the darker chords that mirror my soul once

I skip, then twice, and thrice depart. Yet still the

music turns its brighter face, until the sixth bell

chimes and I must stay; and in that sudden

swell of borrowed light my drenched thoughts

sway lighter in their way. 

The stars command the sky’s bright stage tonight,

their silver trails the world is meant to see; yet

still I watch thy quiet wandering course, for

something in thy distance speaketh me. 

So through the dark thou move with silent grace,

not lost, but drifting where the night is wide and

though the sky is vast and full of life, thy hiddled flight feels somehow close beside.