By Charis Negley
A shooting star, my cousin says I crane my neck up to see into the dark Maine sky Stars as plentiful as pinholes in a cushion But we see no more meteors With our hazy young minds We identify constellations Slightly bent stories of stars sliding off our tongues And I wonder if I can count them all I’ll never see a wider sky I won’t see half as many stars in Delaware But tonight, I can lose myself In a short eternity of a shooting starless sky
Charis Negley is from Wilmington, DE, and earning her bachelor’s degree in professional writing at Taylor University. Website: Charisnegley.wixsite.com/mysite
Academy of the Heart And Mind 