"Stars", 1926 by Maxfield Parrish
I watch from above
as he walks into the maw
of howling cold darkness
I am wearing thick socks
while he wears triple layers
I wonder if the thought of me
waiting here alone
will keep him warm enough
to bring him home, swiftly and safe
the wind is moaning its agony
into our bones, now separated
by distance and duty,
by commerce and consumerism
the blankets are empty
of everything but his scent
I hug them tightly around me,
lean against his pillow, yawning,
burrow deep into this cavern
he is out there somewhere,
battling good and evil
with his leather gloves
with me shivering in his back pocket,
a thought as small as snowflakes,
a love as large as the Grand Canyon,
so big it can be seen from space
with all its stars
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