Personal Prose Pt.6

My little patch of heaven.
I look up at you each night.
The inky black bluishness like a blanket
With stars like pinpricks reflecting my soul.

These stars are always the same
No matter where I go,
And like my poor soul
They remind me of home.

My little patch of heaven.
I stare into your void each night.
The harsh winds like the wild below
With stars like ice piercingly cool.

These stars are always the same
No matter where I go,
And like my poor soul
They remind me of home.