She opened her eyes to the sky
and wind and loneliness—
where the bench in the park was empty
and her voice echoed
off the walls of the tree house,
a solitary monument to the past.
Forgotten and shrouded in rusted ivy,
it was smaller than she remembered
and smelled like
dust particles floating in the sun;
she remembers your face
from the beginning, you were the first,
a footstep on the moon.
Raising her hand to wipe the cobwebs away
she coughs as dust fills the air, almost ready
to leave, go back.
But the moonlight winks at her
through the stars and for a second
she knows what it is to smile.
Bracing against the wooden beam she stands
and looks out into the night,
a small breeze rustling the strands of hair on her forehead;
The air is dark and cold, and she can barely see
the path leading home, now just a fading
crease in the dirt
she used to know
Lifting her face to the sky, she gasps
when the moon reaches out to take her hand,
but she likes the feel of stardust on her eyelids
and moonbeams in her hair,
so she holds its hand tight
Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might
have the wish I wish tonight.
Standing on tiptoes she opens her eyes to the sky
and wind and loneliness–
where the bench is still empty
but her voice permeates the walls of the tree house,
a solitary monument in the park.