a sky littered with stars,
from a cot, an outreach,
little small hands that stretch.
a vast black canvas,
pretty, they had filled up a void.
from their faraway places.
they gave shining hope.
giggling as it stubby fingers grasped the air in its room,
stars shine, periodically.
too far to pull down, too far to hug,
and yet they become its relief from the swaying branches, the whirring sounds of wind, the silhouette figures of clothing.
guiding, like a lullaby, so it could sleep, sleep in peace.
someday, the stars will disappear,
but new ones will blink brightly in place,
to substitute the light.
yet, it shall grow up to know,
the lustre of stars will only so be affixed outside,
that the diamond ring so advertised by jewellery shops will never match in equalled stardom.
unless its mama lifted it high enough,
a baby cried, dissatisfied only to stare at a nightsky.
grow, until the day a meteor shower falls.
Labels: expression, memory
