Up At The Stars
I look up at the stars and think
Of just how far away they are
How many light years away they must be
Some of them could be dead
Turned supernova and burnt
Themselves out. But I wouldn’t Know. It takes so long for the
Light to travel to Earth that
I’d still see them shimmering away
And they could have been dead
For thousands of years.
I don’t know how this makes me
Feel. It’s just a strange thought on
A dark, windy, strange Winter’s night
         Autumn Becomes Winter
Leaves gold and brown
Cover the ground
There are clouds in the silver sky
The wind blows cold
As the year grows old
Winter waits for you and I
The skeletal trees
Dance in the breeze
And the night has fallen by Four
The stars come alive
By half past Five
The seasons are turning once more
I normally can’t stand
This wintry land
Summer is usually my thing
Something’s different this year
As New year grows near
Around the corner is spring
Ian Lewis Copestick is a 46 year old writer from Stoke on Trent England.
He has published 49 poems in 10 different e-zines including Anti-Heroin Chic, Outlaw Poetry, The Rye Whiskey Review, Medusa’s Kitchen, Synchronized Chaos, Under The Bleachers, Horror Sleaze Trash, and more.

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