Lines on a favored child.
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art.
There is no favorite child, only the rotation of focus. They are three suns shining in the heavens, and I am the moon that orbits them all, the ellipse of my love moving into the light of this one now, then that one, then the other, as they spin and I turn from dawn to dawn to dawn. A new splendor breaking over my horizon each hour.