"I'm writing to mother," Alice said,
"And I'm making some kisses big and round.
She'll hold them close to her lips, like this.
And make a sweet, little kissing-sound."
"Are kisses round?" little Mary asked,
"I'm sure they never feel so to me, They feel like stars--Mother's do, I know,
And I'd draw them this way--star-shaped--see!"
"Like stars? Oh, Mary, how queer you are!
What funny thoughts you get in your head!"
"Alice, it's true! Don't you feel so too,
When nighttime comes and we're tucked in bed?"
"And mother comes softly in-- in the dark--
And we see a twinkle of something bright,
When she kisses us then; don't you feel as if
Her kisses are stars dropped out of the night?"
