It’s being told about stars

You can’t see

Yet

And having a book taken away

Before you can finish

And then having the middle spoiled

But not the end.

It’s smiling into the sunshine

I want your freckled cheeks and blond eyelashes

and I want your flying hair

and I want your careful words that start tumbling fast,

woven together,

please

so I can wrap myself up

and remind myself of happy.