To me, constellations
Are like sketches in the stars.
You stare at the sky
Until your eyes burn,
Wondering where oh where they are.

Looking for those shapeless shapes
Is like playing connect-the-dots.
You point, reach out
At those ***** of fire,
And luckily, this close, there're not so hot.

Twinkling, twinkling,
Those stars in the sky.
I wish oh I wish
That I could see them up close,
Oh how I wish I could fly.

If I could then I would soar,
Wouldn't wait for a second chance.
I'd leap into the night,
Taking instant flight,
And look back down on a world full of ants.

The stars would grow closer,
No longer quite so small.
I'd do flips,
So excited!
No fear, not scared at all.

At last I'd leave our atmosphere,
Yet somehow I would breathe.
I would finally taste
My outer space,
And I'd never want to leave.

The moon would be my first destination,
A crescent, not actually round.
I'd curl into its curve,
It would rock me to sleep,
And at last I'd feel safe and sound.

Next, now awake, I would go exploring,
Shooting, like stars, here and there.
I'd fly all around,
Never touching the ground,
And all without a care.

Finally I'd go chasing
After my burning ***** of light.
No longer could I
Connect those huge dots,
But I was warmed by those stars oh so bright.

So no more could I make
My sketches in the stars,
But at last
I'd be among them,
And know exactly where they are.