Twinkle

Twinkle twinkle little star I know exactly what you are I used to wonder but now I know Because my father told me so I remember when some years ago I was gazing outside of my bedroom window Staring at the light shining down from afar And I asked “Daddy, what’s a star?” He took a small pause before he replied But I cut in just as he tried In an air of my know-it-all, five year old haught I told my father what I thought “I think that when the angels cry Some of their tears stay stuck in the sky And because angels shine with Heaven’s bright light Their tears can still be seen at night” My father shook his head, and rolled his eyes And said “that’s a load of crap and lies Stars are neither holy nor magic And can be explained in the simplest logic A star is merely gas in sky!” This, I knew, must be a lie. “They’re from the angels!” I’d insist Dad taught me angels don’t exist We’d have this fight many a night, but I soon learned that my father was right. Stars aren’t special, they aren’t divine, and wishing on stars is a big waste of time. I grew to hate any kid that was told about Santa Clause, and pots of gold. Their ignorant smiles were met with despise Because they were fools and their heroes were lies Why didn’t their fathers tell them what mine told me? Why were they allowed their fantasies? Well, as I grew older I realized, I was one of a lucky few. While the dreamers were out there, chasing their stars, I knew there was work to do. If I had continued wishing on stars and dreaming my life away, I would be poor! Or homeless! Or worse! I would not have the success that I do today. Twinkle twinkle little star, I have grown old and weary now. I have some children of my own, and so I’ll make this vow. I know that they will ask me about what you are someday, and when that day does come, I know what I will say. “You see dears… when the angels cry some of their tears stay stuck in the sky, and because angels shine with Heaven’s bright light, their tears can still be seen at night.” Yes, I know… it is a lie. But perhaps they can be happier than I. As I learned the truth, my childhood was lost. Nothing I’ve gained has been worth that cost. I’ll let them live And let them dream And remind them that nothing is as it seems I’ll tell them to wish on stars when they’re old And to search for rainbows in hopes of gold And I will tell them that when I’m gone I’ll cry them new stars that they can wish on And when they sees those stars’ bright light They’ll know that I’m saying “I love you, good night.”