Waved bangs frame
Your fair young face,
And flowing clothes hang
Like drying laundry
From your gangly limbs

We met for lunch once:
You, daughter of
the stars and I the curious
Traveler. My words did
Not flow as I’d hoped,
But hung limp in
The air vulnerably--
For your guarded heart
Ignored their pleas.

I see you daily, star child,
With your hooped earrings
And painted lips, eyes
twinkling like distant suns.
I will continue to admire
you from afar,
Even if our worlds are
Not in orbit and our
galaxies sit light years apart.