Solitary, she looks up to the sky
her eyes twinkling like yellow gems wafting,
drifting down from the crescent candelabra. She is
rapt by the pulsing echoes of dusk
to which silence waltzes.
She is like the stars, twinkling with unfettered hope
pirouetting endlessly across the ethereal,
exploding yet merging with reality,
navigating but spiraling in all directions. She looks down,
fingering the frayed edges of his final vestige,
holding it above her head one last time.
As she lets it slowly drifts to the ground,
her eyes do not follow.
Solitary, she looks up to the sky.