The velveteen sky lies studded with stars
They’re dear friends of old who greet me from afar
Once I knew them by name, but now memory fails
I fumble through my mind but, alas! to no avail
I remember scenes, though, like postcards from the past,
Times I’d bare my soul to the friends I’d amassed
My starry-framed companions shed light on my thoughts
Dilemmas and decisions that tied my heart in knots
I held midnight monologues with my friends, the stars
Who wisely kept their distance, watching me only from afar
They’d listen non-judgementally, never once interrupting,
A friendship born of convenience, but supportive and touching
The stars remained there, but I moved on, and forgot
The kindly way they’d listen to my rambling thoughts
My fears, despairs, and anguish, my sorrows and my rage
Their counsel was unparalleled, trustworthy and sage.
Their lessons they taught well, and I never took for granted
The power of an ear for the aggrieved and disenchanted
And so now I am returning to those dear friends of yore
Seeking that compassion that they lent me before
I’ve come armed with a speech, but in a different form
One that I expect will take the starry sky by storm
Because I’m too old now, to go rambling to stars
And invisible ears (though I know they listen from afar)
Imaginary friends, like starlight, are timebound — they expire
And if a human heard my monologue, the consequence would be dire
That’s why I brought my six-string (along with ungloved hands)
A different form of a rant I know the stars will understand
Words are one form of expression, but music moves the soul
And as I strum and sing my songs, I feel myself turn whole
The stars (my friends!) seem to twinkle just a little brighter
And, bit my bit, I let negativity go, let my heart beats lighter
There’s no better cure for inner strife, no matter where you are
That’s why I’ve brought out my guitar, and now sing to the stars
Rose of Prose 