It’s cold outside.
Dark, too.
It’s about 4am, last I looked.
I lie on my back,
Staring at the ceiling.
A car drives past,
Its lights illuminating my ceiling.
As the car turns down another road,
My room slowly returns to darkness.
I find myself wishing that I could speak with you,
If only for a few minutes.
To talk to you,
To tell you about my day,
To ask how you’ve been since I last saw you.
To bake and decorate some cookies,
Then sit down with you to eat them.
Maybe watch a movie,
Do some arts and crafts.
Anything that means getting to spend more time with you.
My alarm goes off,
Telling me that it’s 6:30 and time to get up,
Up out of bed.
Up out of my head,
Up out of my fantasies,
Out of my dreams, hopes, and wishes.
Because this is reality:
I’m on the ground,
But you’re in the stars.