Yekaterina Bezpalaya

Sky By The Window

A pencil, some paper,
a pen, and a chair.
A desk by the window,
and the wind through your hair.

As nighttime falls,
you gaze at the stars,
you wonder how many,
you wonder how far.

You reach out your hands,
trying to capture them all,
you thoroughly think,
'How tiny and small? ',

You step to your desk,
and you draw them all out,
you cut them neatly,
and you squeal and you shout.

You take them to your windowsill,
like many times when,
you throw them all out,
and you count them again.