Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff

Above Me

This morning I watched as the stars fell.

As they fell across the Navy sky,

The Navy sky the bleeds into the cornfields,
With the Neil Diamond voice.

Their beauty now lay lost,
 Amongst the dead stalks and soil.
Unharvested, but flickering soft like the mating call of the firefly.

For a moment,  I made a wish.
A wish that got caught on my swelling tongue and placid lips,
The color of French tips.

It was in that moment I knew,
There was no wish that I could make that was worthy of placing on that dead star that now lay lost among the highway.

No wish that could bring back that sparkle,
Nor, put you back up in the sky again, bright.
Like the eyes of a child, consumed with fire.
Instead–tonite, I will lay my head down on my pillow and know there will be one less star
One less sun.
Above me.


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