The fields were gilded
Under a vermeil moon
And the stars hung
In quiet night time reverie
The road was a black line
With sparkling frost
And cold penetrated,
A man and a young child craned
Their necks angled towards
The infinite blackness, eyes illuminated
By the gentling moon.
Which star will you become?
Asked the child, staring
Transfixed up into myriad pinpricks
Of light dotting the welkin
A star that is ever present,
Came the reply. Even on the
Nights hidden behind the saddest clouds
My star will still shine brightly for you.
But how will I find it? the child asked,
Joining stars with their finger, in a
Celestial dot to dot. How will
I find your star when you're gone?
The man smiled and reached up,
Plucking a star. Here, open your hands.
Now hold them over your heart.
Let the light in and know it is me in you.
The child held their hands over their heart
As the man held the child in a warming embrace.
Dad, the child said, you'll always be my star.
And you'll always be mine, he replied.
Whenever you try to find my star,
Look to the heavens and know every
Star is a memory of us, and know
You still carry that one special star
In your heart.
A conversation about stars. For our children, we are all stars. Shine as brightly as you can for them in all you do.