The Stars are Falling

snow
        drifting
                    downward,

gently, oh so gently
                                falling,

dropping from a sky so black
where no stars twinkle
like diamonds on black velvet,
no pewter plate rests on an ebony table,
only snow
                falls...

glittering flakes—six points each—
in the light of the street lamp
where I stand,
head bare,
as they land in my hair,
on my lashes,
melt on my cheeks and on my lips
as I gaze skywards,
watching the stars leave their home,
depart from the depths of blackest space,
to
    fall
          at my feet,

glittering.