Stars

The ancients said our loved ones become stars.

I like to think that’s true, now that you’ve gone;

That I can steal away, and look at you,

The darkest hours, between dusk and dawn

 
But sometimes, even now, the clouds obscure

The light I’d gain from you in memory;

I know that your still shining up above,

But how I feel tonight,

That’s hard

To see

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