There’s a star up there next to the

one on the left. Each night, when clouds

find favor to be somewhere else,

I witness the diamond chip, flashing its

carats into my curiosity.


Brighter than backyard lights, higher than

my sisters hair, it lounges as if glued

just beyond my reach.


The perfect friend, always there, holding

to the backcourt when foul weather prevails,

returning on clear night skies where it affirms

its place.




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