Stars in the sky write to me—
they send me letters every now and then.
On paper is where their words won’t be,
but in my heart time and time again.
The country stars seem to shout
secrets that have been locked away.
I’m the only one who let’s them out,
but maybe someone else will another day.
City stars whisper each word—
stories of virtue and greed.
They can barely be heard,
just as they can barely be seen.
Stars that blanket the sea
sing me a sweet song.
One that cries a silent plea,
begging to live on.
The north pole stars way up high
send me all their questions.
Not one is the same like the snowflakes that float by—
all they’re looking for is some suggestions.
My favorites by far must be the ones above my home—
they are always sending me advice.
Everyday they write me because they know
sometimes I just need something sweet and nice.
