I had a dream this morning about two people I admire. I have tried to get their attention for real for my selfish reasons. It isn’t working. I should know.
She lifts her pen and nudges the stars
again and again
that shimmer of hope flickering in her eyes.
Again they do not see her ink blot in an inky sea
of adoration admiration adherents to the trope
of connection and care.
And she dreams the stars.
He took her hand and took her to the other
shining brightly in her dressing room
making art applying make-up
preparing to wow in her honest truth.
They held hands. She held her breath.
She wakes up.
The stars are ever in the sky
brightening the night
when the city lights have calmed.
They sing and laugh, and her heart aches
to hear them
because she cannot touch them,
and they will not lift her up.
She lifts her pen and weeps the stars.
© 2015 by Robin A. Sams