The Wrapping

If the sun
Becomes a tyrant
Lasting in the skies
Pulling clouds to guard it and
Casting rays to shun the eyes
And her beauty surrounds her
To illuminate the paths
Upon which she gazes
Remind her that time awaits
The presence of the moon
To sweep her off her feet
Wrap her in his arms
And cool all those fiery rays
Then pull them one after the other
To make tiny golden pieces
We call twinkle stars