Eyes wide open,
tilted towards the sky,
twinkle therein,
laughing softly as constellations die.

Star after star,
falling from the sky,
each tethered to a soul,
vanishing as they die.

Beautiful face,
expressive and perceptive,
lively and lovely,
a Mona Lisa in your own time.

Star after star,
falling from the sky,
laying back against blades of grass,
and though the these blades are dull,
they press against you sharply,
a reminder of the fact that everyday children die.

Shaken to the core,
tears well up inside,
letting yourself go,
not a spirit in sight.

Journey just begun,
step by step,
gathering up your sadness in your arms,
that’s what makes you different.

Your beauty is elusive,
tangible and otherwise,
sharp and sweet,
your beauty stems not from what you aren't,
but what you are.