A star in her pocket

Stars were her last hope,
they were going to save her,
Their pretty sparkle
would sit in her pocket,
waiting for that chance.
Tiny little pin heads of light
caught in a child's hand,
stuffed into a pocket,
to wait for monsters
and kill them, stone dead.
Years later she would learn,
you can't hold starlight
in your hand,
you can only watch it glow.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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