No matter how they live their lives,
No matter how big they really are,
There is something very special
About each and every nighttime star.
I would love to be a star like that,
Not because of its glory or life,
But for its grace and elegance;
for its endless strife.
It battles for eons
Against the pull of gravity,
And never succeeds,
Regardless of intricate strategy.
Stars have a disposition all of their own,
Personalities matching each one here at home.
Stars are not living, or so we've been told,
But we've been wrong before, and we're not that old.
The stars are ancient; have been there forever,
Dancing and playing, off in the nether.
They are our friends, they've built our earth,
They watch us live with endless mirth.
Some explode, and die away,
while others simply shrink, and fade to gray.
All of the stars that grace the heavens,
Have something of mine I'll let them keep.
They have my admiration, my dreams,
and all the thoughts in my head, when I go to sleep.