I always used to wake up in the middle of the night, just to
stare up at the stars.
I didn't like them very much, but they were there for me;
my watchful presence, always smiling in the air, so
removed in nonchalant appeals.
They reminded me that there's something else;
they were my family, my society of friends.
Ever-present, but all I could do was watch them as they
went about their own affairs, or whatever stars may do
(I had no clue, they never told me much)
I don't believe that they much liked me either,
but they hadn't any choice; it wasn't as if they
could up and leave. As long as they were there, I figured
that I might as well converse with them. I doubt they
ever listened, but I suppose that's fine with me as well.
I never really like stars anyways.
(A/N: Although the flow leaves much to be desired, this is one of my more favorite poems, if only for its theme. Yeah, it is a whimsical bit about disliking stars (although I adore them in real life), its embedded reference is to the concept of friendship and how it relates (or, rather, doesn't relate) to me, as was first suggested by the title. I don't know if that connection was noticeable, but hey, whatever *shrugs*. I wrote this for myself, so I guess that's enough for me. Oh yeah, and the line about 'my society of friends' was spontaneously inspired by a poem of Emily Dickinson, one of the awesome-est poets ever. She is like a role model of prose to me. Cept for the whole recluse-lusting-over-older-married-men bit. I prefer mine young and kickin'. *wink*. Anyhow, shutting up now. Please review! I'd love to hear from you)