I shape the night
with fingers that glide through
sunset, and lips that
kiss stars into the
bruised black and blue of the sky.
I can mold light
into ribbons of purple and green
with only a flick of my wrist,
and whisper secrets
into the wind with just a sigh.
The night is my canvas,
and I hold the brush,
my fingertip prints the moon
and my silence paints the hush.
Each eve is a gift that I
craft just for you,
and if you look closely enough,
you can see my name signed
in the constellations,
pricked in stars and each night
written anew.