Stars


Stars are little balls of fire burning off into a sea of black.

On a wall of nothing they are the art piece.

They are the lone flower in the field of grass.

They are the only dancer in the crowd.

They are endless beauty and wonder.

 

There is a feeling I get when I watch the stars.

Laying on the dew covered grass, surrounded by darkness

I am alone but also not lonely.

I stare off into these far off galaxies.

The far off art pieces, flowers and dancers

 

And I wonder, what have they been through?
no matter what they have gone through they are still here
and they are beautiful


They are untamed and wild. They could run free when they feel the need.

But for some odd reason they stay here with me and it is a privilege that I am a part of their existence.

Now, where I see art pieces and flowers and dancers,

You could just see little lights in the sky


But thats okay.

Because you, my dear.

You are my stars

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741