The child’s inventory

The stars shine up there endlessly.
I am now making their inventory

Night after night, strewn like salt
On sea shore, left drying in pans.

Since I came , stars have changed
A lot against the dark sky, behind

The well where the waters glisten
And rope and pail wait out night

Ready to bring up the fallen ones
Dropped by somewhat loose sky.

My  tiny fingers are  not  pointy.
I forget where I stop and resume

And I have to do my home work,
Between and run down to home.


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