#28 Shooting Stars

I used to say
we were a complete universe.
We didn’t need anyone else.
We drew our planets in every color
made our moons of paper mache,
cut out stars of cookie dough,
and sang the constellations to sleep.


I held you close while we napped
on dust clouds,
and travelled to distant galaxies.
You were the sun
and I was the moon.
You were the moon
and I was a star.

Together, we were a
shooting star.


--For my son, who’s too old to be a universe with me, but I still love him like crazy.