She is a star wrapped up in human form,
Unknown to herself
Unseen by those around her.

A cell dividing into itself, pulled her in
Around it,
Then, through it as it divided around her white light.

Growing up, nothing is remembered.
She may run too fast,
Sometimes sing in voices only trees can hear,
But human she is to herself.

What would it be like,
You think?
To be made of starlight,
To reach out hands in mother’s garden
Teasing brown and broken to green,
To walk barefoot on snow
Or searing blacktop and laugh softly.

Somehow, no one sees the angel inside the girl,
The one with hair of autumn leaves
And eyes of river blue.