You must have been six years old. Seems now,
someone else's life or a made-up one like
the foreign film with the little girl who pretended
her dead mother alive. And no one believed her
until she woke up on a cold winter morning
wearing the sweater her mother was buried in.
They say: "stars have died by the time you see them."
You must have been six years old when recurrent dreams
of lions and horses, fences and fire meant nothing
and stars were alive
their shine moved through the windowpane.