Celeste ...

It said a star's come unhinged -
A report on the spatial census;
Twinkling, she'd been blue-tinged,
Colours, he thought, still fascinate us.

He felt he had seen her,
And the thought left him amazed;
His flitting mind couldn't remember,
His having ever sky gazed.

Where had he seen such a blink?
Skittish bulbs, at the shop window,
Lights that outlined the rink,
Flashes from cars refusing to slow ...

His hand drew back from the rake,
Fingers fidgeted, had he touched rust?
Her eyes, he recalled the shake,
Was his palm aglow with stardust?