Some Sort Of Starlight

It was cloudy last night. Though, in my romantic youth, I often heard a friend of mine say that there were always stars, we just didn't always see them. In that youth, that notion made so much sense to me. To be able to look up at the clouds and still wish on some star as if they were shining brightly. Now, the notion seems heartfelt and somehow more ridiculous than in the past.

Still I found some sort of starlight last night. In the eyes of a woman that does not know she has it there. In the breath and movement of her body under gentle, night lighting. Some exterior design serves to mask that inner light like blanket covered hippies at a Dead concert. Still it escapes, tendrils of it shining through without warning.

In moments, at times, I felt I was lying on my back playing the stargazer. That some myriad of images was etching itself across my bloodshot eyes. Images I would never remove. Memories that will haunt me as often as they cause me to smile. Memories of some sort of hidden starlight, a glimpse of something i will not have.