Shine down on me, starry night,
Shower your blues and yellows;
Transcend death into your light;
I’ll wait until it all mellows.
Your buildings are cut and dry,
Blue-grey trees keeping them soft,
There’s one great star asking, why
Black brush strokes hold the sky aloft?
Faith falls short in my belief;
Nature becomes the pillars;
Trees big and small give relief
People are silent killers.
Starry night, kindly, be kind
And merge these lines into one;
Leave not a sole stroke behind
Beautify what you’ve begun.
Hearts Still Care 
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