The day was young, the morning dew met with the birds that sung.
The day unique, a day of which I rarely speak.
Two youths intertwined. As, the moon eclipsed, and beauty was inscribed.
How many can say they would block out the light of the sun.
Just for the first kiss to be won.
See this memory laden in joy.
Still so young playing with toys.
Princes and Princess', they did play.
So, it seemed fit to kiss that day.
As Stella met the moon from behind.
And inscribed through this sacred time.
A lavish memory.
Lavished on the lips during the eclipse.
With one simple wish.
To kiss the princess.
If the memory should ever fade.
Then this prince returns a knave.
Humble in the kiss he gave.
Retreating in the shade of a smile he once made.