childhood · children · destiny · dreams · friends · night · Poetry · poverty · secrets · sky · stars · talking · winter

Talking to the stars

During those melancholy midnights when slumber sleeps far away

His concrete walkway bed seems an enemy as the night quietly passes

His eyes wide open, brimmed with dreams undaunted by the forces of reality

Reality that embraces his fragile frame with all the compassion and warmth,

While other kids of his age are treated with the tales of moon every night,

He is often seen befriending the neighbors of the lunar god who reside beyond the dark.

Stars like him back too, he is different, they often discuss,

Unlike others, he never tries to count them or find them when they are lost

He simply goes to them when he is lonely and his dreams are dwindling

He goes to them to seek their light and company

Unlike others, he is not finicky in his choice nor is he clichéd

He talks to them all, whoever is available,

Even to those who were left alone when galaxies were to be formed

And them, the miserable ones, who couldn’t fit in any constellation

They like him, o yes they do,

They like him for his dreams might be surreal

But he plans them oh so well in his little mind

Now, he knows a few dirty starry secrets too

For one, those tiny pin-ups aren’t quite fond of the moon

The self proclaimed wannabe lunar god who is smaller than the smallest of them

He has also unlocked a few myths with their help,

For one, not all of them belong to the Milky Way

That there is no such grandma with a spinner or a boy named frost on the moon

Stars have shared all they know but he must stay hush

For only then, his dreams can come true

They show him their scripts, as testimony to their vows

For they say about his destiny, it’s written in the stars.


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