We laid in the soft grass for a while.
The wind blew steadily.
With the moon illuminating us from afar.

You chuckled, thinking about the silly idea of
counting all the pretty lights above us.
All the stars, adding them up by hand.

I laughed too,
of course I did.

I loved the stars and nightsky too,
of course I did.

But while you busied yourself with the absurd prospect of
counting all the stars,

I'd rather admire you, and busy myself with
counting all the freckles on your face.