Stardust to Starlight

If life were just a story,
I would write a happy ending.

Yes, the hero and heroine
would be soot-marked,
their clothes in tatters,
but they would be
embracing in the silhouette
of a full moon,

a harvest moon.

I still cry at all the parts
you might expect,
knowing my Hallmark sensibilities,
those I was born with,
and a few more developed along the way.

But mostly I have been in good spirits
since I realized the soul
that always glowed from within,
the soul lit in your singular smile,
the flash of mischief in your eyes,
the roar of laughter that erupted
when the absurdity of life
poked you in the ribs,

The soul wrapped in stardust,
the soul I saw swaying
to Motown on the jukebox,
the soul that grabbed my heart
and still hasn’t loosened its grip,
has only slipped its earthly form

returning to the starlight,

leaving the stardust behind.