When you talk about the sky,
the stars are your cousins
and the moon is your brother.
You told me once that
you imagine him tied to the earth
with miles of thin black ribbon,
pulling tight as he tries to float away.

We used to dance barefoot on the lawn,
ethereal and blue in the moonlight.
We’d spin until we fell onto the dewy grass.
Laying breathless beside you, I could see
the stars reflected in your eyes
I knew you had to leave.
I loved you anyway.

You stayed a while longer,
but the thin black ribbons holding you here
began to fade and fray.
I know you didn't want to go, but
the choice was never yours.
You floated away as gravity finally lost
to the wordless magnetism of the stars.