I have not yet been touched by light,
yet still I reach through silver night.
Perhaps the sun will see me there,
and grant a name to one so spare.
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If love's a flame, then let it burn,
upon the hand that waits its turn.
If love's a song, I'll learn the tune
I'll hum it soft beneath the moon.
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Is it so wrong to wish the skies
would learn the color of my eyes?
To dream that stars, in their embrace,
might one day call me theirs, in grace?