Time is like a music box
and you are the prim little
ballerina
encased within.
You come out to see the stars
and dance for them.
Your efforts resemble
their contrite brilliance
but in a much more
secret way,
hinting of pleasure
and dreams.
The music you hear is all
Vivaldi and Adams.
The words that the stars sing
are Tennyson, Anderson and Williams.
Then we close a lid on the night sky
and the world sleeps
soundly and silently.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
very cool, like a night breeze
kim