A Guitar playing star

How can it be
that at the age of 68-
A grateful Grandmother
Serious Student of life
Traveler of many moons
I feel so empty?

How can it be that the bottle of wine I have taken off the shelf
tastes of magical memories- beyond any imagination- truly miracles

and hell
separations,, death
and realizations which could have been left in the cork.?

How can it be that
I know so much less than when I was a child?
like on a Christmas morning in 1952
a blue Shwinn bike wearing shiny pom poms on the handlebars filled my soul
I KNEW there was magic

when I found the golden egg at an Easter egg hunt on a dusty road in Alabama with a truck full of kids
I KNEW the Easter bunny was real.

I swam with mermaids
and owned a Unicorn named Blue
I was at the beginning of the never ending morning

I will never close my heart nor shut my eyes
even, though
'they' tell me it is evening
and I won't fall asleep
until I hear a lullaby from a guitar playing star.