She saw me looking
at the beautiful night sky.
You seem fascinated
by the stars she mused.
They are more fascinated
by me I said.
We understand each other
the stars and I.
They see me as the one
who makes wishes.
I see them as the stars
who fail to grant them.
People think they are
made of fire and power.
But they are only
made of lost dreams
and unanswered prayers.
Which one is made of your wishes?
she asked.
I show her the brightest star
in the heavens.
It is that one
it burns with my wishes.
They are all about you
Doesn’t that make you a star?