Childhood Memories

Plastic glow stars that stick to the ceiling like a dream galaxy. Those things never come off. They shine like tiny beacons in the dark, with their anthems of innocence. I don’t care how old I get; those little stars will always be gods looking down on a sleeping scene. There is a certain comfort about them. Maybe it’s the fact that they never change. Throughout all the twists and turns of a single day, they always remain just out of arm’s reach.