The Star

She lies still and looks through the curtains
At the stars
At the dear, bright stars

It's cold at night. It should
Be warm with him beside her
But he sleeps as far away as he can
He edges away
In his sleep

She watches him with a lonely
A lonely pile of stardust in her hands
In her fists
The little star, she, the lonely star
Without a moon.
Without a moon she makes a rather
Empty picture

The lonely star
She looks out the windows at night
At her sparkling sisters
At least they welcome her
With smiles

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