A/N: Written for the Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-athlon, James/Lily, #100 – astronomy
A Larger Poetry Collection
162. Star-gazing
She'd never pegged him as the sentimental type,
the one who'd trace patterns into the night sky
and give his memories to the points of light
that scattered about
But he was a sweet romantic that way, showing her
the shapes he'd found himself: his own astronomy brand
he shared with her. Like the Gryffindor lion
high up in the sky, like it'd been when he's first arrived,
the fire that danced about, like the day he'd first laid eyes
on her, the small little hole he called little Sniv
and she'd fell a small pang as she laughed
but it'd soon be gone as he showed her another set
of stars: the flaming red star of mars
when it aligned with a hammer and the flame
And she'd laugh at the absurdity of it all:
he a hammer, and she the flame
that made it hot enough to weld
but it was so fitting as well, the way they came together
in the stars
And she wasn't superstitious at all, but she liked to believe
that the stars did write a future together for them:
the hammer that struck first and changed under her flame
and the fire that continued to burn on with him.