Papa

It was when my hands were small,
still able to fit snugly in your palms
that you showed me a picture of a nebula.
I marveled at the incandescent streaks of light.
Lime miasma and orange rust
spilling from an endless black sky.
They were farther away than I could understand
but you let me reach out
and run my fingers across them.
I looked up and thanked you for the stars.