And the stars wink at me,
As if to let me know
That they see me too.
I try to count -
Eight billion? Nine?
A trillion? Ten?
Each time I blink, I lose count.
I feel so small,
Like a toddler in a field
Of long, tall grass.
I am miniscule.
A sadness constricts my heart
As I realise, with dread,
That the beauty I see,
The stars, are already dead.
