Work Text:
When I asked you what
the stars were, you laughed.
Took a moment to realign
the roast split over campfire,
a small feast for the lost pair
shot down by nimble hands.
shit, wait, you're serious
You always forgot it was
a new ceiling in the sky.
You told the stories of stars
while we ate, they seemed
anchored to shapes all wrong
that sounded make believe,
but reminded me of fairy tales
I'd read on the road.
In low light, on watch,
listening for the snap of twigs
and the rise and fall
of your breath.
No princess to rescue
from dragons hoard
or tower locked tight.
Would we end up a story
written in the stars?
Two last hopeless wardens
scrambling to stop a blight.