And the little girl sat huddled, hunched
Intently staring, glaringly gazing into
The tiny star found in her hand.
And as she watched it, selfishly,
Sharing it with only she, it grew and
By its gleamings could be seen, the
Tinier mimicked stars within her eyes.
The Star in its growings…swelled, blazing bright…
Upon her life and making naked her very soul.
She started, at its new sizes and her awareness of it,
But knew its wonder was hers and hers alone.
But then; she heard the Star’s bright voice…
Calling to her crisp and clear, to share its light
With others, also, that they might know its measure.
And quickly clasped were her jealous child-hands
About the Star-jewel, shutting off all but faint
Glimmerings that escaped at random.
And quickly placed was the small bright wonder; and,
As quickly shut was the small chest’s lid; and,
On the high shelf behind the rag doll was
The chest-tomb carefully laid and hid.
Years, as ages, passed then…and next found her
Brought her to her past, in person,
To bear her attic room in tears.
But by chance she touched the tattered ragdoll;
And, gasped, as it tipped and fell….forgotten
As she saw the chest and leaped to own it
And know the Star’s wonder once again…
…She turned the latch and bent the hinges
(Rusted now by the seasons’ changes)
And found only cold air…wantings…
.....and her own emptiness.