e only way out is through.









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Will You Catch Stardust? 

Melissa Bachara  


Blades of grass, when did you cease to be my carpet,
soft and green, caressing my bare feet?

Rays of sunlight, when did you cease to be my warmth,
freckling my skin with ardent kisses?

Reckless wind, when did you cease to calm me,
brushing across my tear-drenched cheek?

Cricket voices, when did you cease to sing me to sleep,
with moonlit music suspended in the darkness?

Restless sea, when did you cease to cleanse my spirit,
flowing through my fingertips as I bathed in salty swells?

Silver stars, when did you cease to light my way,
slicing through indigo nights while I danced?

Lost child, when did you cease to run with abandon across grassy meadows, exposed to the sunlight, face uplifted to gusts and gales?

Spirit of light, when did you cease to bathe in warm tide pools, moonlight twisted in your hair?

Indigo dancer, will you remember the call of the night music? Arms raised to the light, will you catch star dust? Or will you miss the sparkling remnants falling upon your pillow as you sleep?

Copyright 2004, Reprinted with permission.

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