Eleven. Twenty-nine.

I'm made of stars.
Carbon hydrogen and helium
I'm not a scientist, so I couldn't say for certain
But I know about wishes and magic and light
Distance and stories and mystery
I've squeezed my eyes shut many a time
A 'star light, star bright...' wish whispered into a night sky
I'm made of stars.

I'm made of pieces.
Skinned knees and bruised hands
Heart beats resounding hollow trying to hide the mess
Inside clumsily scotch-taped mosaic
Held together by elemers covered fingers
All grown up but really
Five years old trying to hide the cracks
Of a heart that accidentally slipped
Trusted in the hands of someone
Not quite ready to hold it.
I'm made of pieces

I'm made of crumbs.
Christmas eve wishes settling in the bottom of a plateNear a letter and an ice cold glass of milk
Slippered feet illuminated by glowing colors
Lights and ornaments, wreaths and bows
Please, Santa I know I've messed up but I tried...
I'm made of crumbs.

I'm made of bits of poetry.
Words that cut deeper than the surgeon scalpel
When he took out all the bad cells
Stitching me back together in the broken spots
The spots cut open, bleeding, painful
But cut open, deep, to make me better
Make me whole.
I'm made of bits of poetry.

I'm made of eighth notes.
Half notes, quarter, rest
Little beats mixing and twirling
Tutus and ballet slipper feet
Watching the big girls and please please please
Let me dance pretty just like them
Finding my own rhythm to the song
Learning to recognize the song inside my very being.
I'm made of eighth notes.

I'm made of memories.
Flying like birds through department store doors
Their simple way in not so easily reversed
Rattling around inside and finding new places to rest
Causing gasps and sometimes breaks
Other times giggles and 'oh won't this be a story to tell'
Knocking off dust from where it wasn't even noticed
I'm made of memories.

I'm made of prayers.
Words whispered in the good and the bad
Holiday tables surrounded by families
Sunday lunches. Full-churched candle-lit hymns.
Funerals. Hospital beds.
The pleases and the thank yous, the wishes and the wonders.
I'm made of prayers.

I'm made of hope.
The little whisper that says that
When the world lets you down
When you're bruised and heartbroken
When Christmas is over and the magic slips away
When the bad things aren't able to be removed
When the music stops
When the memories fade
When prayers feel like they're sinking into tiles
Hold on.

Because I'm made of rays of sunshine.
Nighttime coming to an end.
New beginning. Another day.
Second chance.
I'm made of sunshine.