JanPoWriMo 8

I’ll always associate
David Bowie’s death 
with looking up
into the night sky
and a field full of stars 
thinking they were souls
departed and glowing 
like snow at the end 
of the VHS tape
down in space 
it’s always 1982
when I looked up again
the sky was black
the stars still there 
invisible breath promise 
be kind rewind 
we should be on by now