-I tried to write a poem about the stars,or music, or even trees,but all that came out were visions of you. So I guess I'll just confess that your face splatters across my mind in pieces,because they don't all come together until your fingers touch my lips. I don't think I'm crazy,but you are singing every song on the radio and you are whispering in my ear while you stare at me in the mirror. You must be magic to be everywhere. The kind of magic that makes trees reach up for celestial beings while we curl up between their gentle roots. I've always wished on stars,but I now have a reason to change my wish. We're still too young to understand forever,and I know the lights will dim for a while.(I know of plenty of sad songs to keep me breathing.) But you know where my star lives so come back to me when you're ready to tell me that I can stop wishing. it doesn't matter what I try to write about,because you are embedded in every image in every sound in every word.-