You are the stars.
You are not like the stars
in that you shine bright,
are made of helium,
or are so distant.
You are the stars
because stars become ideas
when we gaze upon them.
We make wishes when they fall
and we count them when we’re sad.
They are not, to us, just balls of gas
or atmospheric danger zones.
They are not, to the normal child,
freaks of nature or larger than the sun.
It is the idea of them that makes them so.
It is our projections onto the stars
that make them shine brighter than they are.
So you, darling, are the stars.
To me, you are everything I ever wished for,
and you are everything that seems impossible.