To the girl who traced on my palm as we lay on the starlit school field. For her 19th birthday, the first that I could celebrate.
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She lights up nights like stars
Hanging over horizons;
Enchants musical repertoires,
Revealing entire constellations
Melted into twinkles in her eyes;
Ascends elegantly
Into the full-mooned sky,
None the less gracefully,
Elusively, magically beautifully. Her
Angelic laughters are
Nocturnes which
Gently caress moon flowers.
She possesses a
Heart purer than gold.
Immaculate, to thaw cold.
More than any, she
Is the airborne
Nightingale soaring to dawn.