The final vignette

Sky falls from darkest moonglow

through the bottomless depths

of breathless regrets

a limitless plateau

like strawberry rosettes

and stale pirouettes

or nothingness, though

threaded through pairless sets

‘neath Orion’s octets

not a solo so low

beyond pity or threats

I’ll forget long ago

and scarcely outgrow

the final vignette

which must end in woe…