to describe your stars

to describe your stars,
to write of your satellites,
to replay just one fine melody,
there exist not enough letters
for words
and not the notes
for a single chord,
futile to relay your loveliness
through speech,
and your hands,
an aimless attempt
it would be to
speak of your hands

if it be your liking (as it is mine),
I rather would hear you
sing me sweetly under moonshine
and rest those hands
under this love’s curls,
etch your star language on
my heart so never may I
lose its translation