Or Maybe I Was Small

I swore the moon was closer once, 

or maybe I was small. 

It used to hum and call my name, 

now it says nothing at all.

The wind still knows my secrets though, 

it talks like it remembers. 

It pulls me back to summers lost, 

to ghosts of old Decembers.

The stars don’t feel as bright these days, 

or maybe I’ve gone blind. 

Maybe they still burn the same, 

but I’ve left them behind.

Written: 2025