you speak to me of galaxies
and starlight touching us from light years away
you speak of meteors
and satellites
and planets falling in love with their suns

you tell me that there are 11 billion planets
that could support life
11 billion possibilities
11 billion new beginnings
11 billion realities waiting to exist

you tell me we were born of stardust
and i believe you
there are universes in your eyes
(and stars in mine)
every time i look at you

you’re pointing at the sky
but i’m watching your hand
outstretched like e.t.
pointing to a star
and calling it home

and i’m no scientist
(i deal in words, not worlds)
but when our fingers brush against mine
i see galaxies
and it all makes sense to me