She pulled me by the sleeve
in that way little girls tend to do;
I expected a unicorn cloud or
an especially icky bug.
What I got, what she was so
impatiently giggly about, was
a watercolor sunset and a
million and one stars, winking
in the twilight like lightning bugs.
She was sparkling and glowing,
brighter than her luminescent heavens,
so I didn't tell her that her sunset
was the next town's electric sun,
or that most of her oh-so-lovely stars
were just planes.

It's better to make believe, so we stood
and took in the glory of her sky,
both of us knowing that it was real.

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