After the fire of the day gutters in the eastern pit, and a midnight blue shadow leaks across the sky like ink soaking into paper, one light shines on despite the dimming embers.
The first light of night flickers like a candle in the remaining cold cobalt sky. A beacon of hope that the fire of day will reignite, that business will start again tomorrow.
But now, heralding the night, it listens to the lonely, connecting them by the twinkle of a wish.
And so, I look up to the lone star that looks down on you wherever you are.