A Billion Speckled Stars

8/22/2017
Quietly alone, 3 A.M.,
under a billion speckled stars,
my thoughts have traveled me
half way around the world
and back.
I lay witness to great fortune
and great tragedy.
Each shimmering pinpoint
showers down light
and a story
of a world alien to my own.
Yet under a billion stars,
a billion worlds,
a billion stories,
I lay quietly alone, 3 A.M.;
but alone breeds romantic
under the unwavering starlight.
And, perhaps, this romanticism,
this loneliness, I crave;
so sleep I stave
to have one more moment
under a billion speckled stars.