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Mr Sagittarius, Man of Fire, among the trees,
Sat down and fashioned arrows out of wood and flint with ease.
Then passing, Lady Libra, who despite her grace and airs,
Was captured by the flame in him, so hid, and watched him there.

His craftsmanship was beautiful, he carved with speed and skill,
She sensed his softer music even though he’d trained to kill.
Our Archer took an arrow, raised his bow and stilled his mind,
The arrow sailed, and punctured through the tree she hid behind.

So here he found our Lady, and was spellbound by her eyes,
As bright as constellations he did not yet recognise.
And she adored his centaur form, admired him head to tail,
And he, enthralled by elegance, quite adored her simple scales.

He loved her constant calmness and she loved his subtle pride,
A love that led to asking if she’d be his balanced bride.
Her answer was immediate, her ‘yes’ was not delayed,
She wanted him forever and her heart was duly weighed.

Orion wed them happily, the Great Bear bore the rings,
The Seven Sisters shone all night to zodiacal kings.
So Mr Sagittarius had his lady by his side,
But nature had dictated they were separate in the sky.

So loving Lady Libra made a necklace for the pain,
Her Archer’s gilded fingertip on a Cassiopeian chain.
She studded it with diamonds for the eight stars of his sign,
She wore it for her centaur so he knew that she was fine.

And even now, the story goes, they spend their days as one,
For stars are never needed when the sky is blessed with Sun.
Then when they have to be apart as pictures of the night,
He lies next to her patient heart, so she shines twice as bright.

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