no subject

[ Aziraphale would have listened attentively and clapped politely at the end even if the poem was completely awful. This one isn't. As someone who suddenly needs sleep as much as any human, after six thousand years going without, insomnia is still a constant struggle for him, and the subject matter draws him in immediately.

But he's most enraptured by the message, and the imagery, his eyes lighting up as she recites aloud. As soon as he's certain there's no more coming he starts to applaud, beaming and even wiping away a quick tear. ]

Brava, brava! [ He sighs, happily. ] Beautiful, and so touching. I always did love the stars...