My three friends and I lie on soft grass atop a hill,
Each one of us facing a different way:
North, south, east and west.
The vanilla moon imbues us with a calming light.
As stars flicker, teasing us with promises far away,
I attempt to grab a few and hold them in a clenched fist.
But as I open my hand I know they remain in place,
Winking back at me as they’ve done countless times before.
Looking Write Back at You 