When I was small,
the sky was a storybook—
every page dotted with stars
too many to count,
each one whispering my name.
But now the nights glow
with lights that never sleep.
Streetlamps, signs, windows—
they push the darkness back
until the stars have nowhere left to shine.
I look up anyway,
searching for the constellations
I used to trace with my fingertips.
Maybe they’re still there—
quiet, patient, waiting for us
to remember to turn the lights off
and look for them again.
I remember the sun perched at the very top of the tree—too still, too watchful—like it had been waiting for me long before I ever looked up. Its light wasn’t warm the way it should’ve been; it felt focused, intentional… like a gaze.
Friendships are complicated—sometimes they bring joy, and other times they hurt.
Sometimes they feel full, and other times lonely.
But just staying by someone’s side—just being part of their life—that matters.
The morning bell rang
just like it always had.
Backpacks lined the wall,
bright pink, sky blue,
zippers half open
with pencils and erasers inside.
A teacher wrote quietly
on the chalkboard,
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.