wind flickers along the star trails, thread with it, an astral spindle whirling around orion and the remnants of cassiopeia in the mid sky

strands of your brown hair caper with the wind, gazing at the sky from the cafe's door, your stitched with caramel sequins

your breaths weave with the wind, the borrowing them to take to the cassiopeia's awaiting above

you watch the year drift away with the of orion through the london sky, in quietude, the prussian blue canopy reflecting in your

"december takes its last breaths." you say

like december is an ingredient in your latte

"january prepares breathe its first."

i whispered, my voice a midnight zephyr

your fall upon me, lips flecked with cassiopeia's star and the gleam of orion's saber

beige tabletops and partly white walls you. you take my hand, lead us to the gray table. glances at us through the glass door

an exiguous black cassiopeia on the edge of the table with- orion pirouetting as if in a

"that is-"

"the same design as your beret."

space must have kissed your hands, my love

your gaze drifts over the dew flecked window, lights flickering with new year's sheen. you hum, your sleeve move up your cassiopeian tattoo

"it'll be new year's eve soon." you murmured

you look back at me and i see the scintilla of and in your beloved eyes

"would you like to see the fireworks with me?"