Fringe
She hides her fear behind a fringe, or she tries to; keeps it cut above the eyes, to hide the lines and the lies – that map of worry, the scars of her secrets. She watches the perfect mothers laugh round the fire  as they hand out sticks and marshmallows. They all still smile at her, but she knows she’s just gossip now. But she loves her children too

Hold my hand, don’t run; now do as your told
Stay strong, stay still, stay here; don’t let life unfold

Too much beer, she needs to pee. She leaves the heat of the camp and walks out to the whispering trees, and squats. She looks up; such clear skies out here, it’s not like the city. There’s Cassiopeia and Cepheus, Andromeda and Perseus: all one big happy family at last. She thinks she sees a shooting star, but she’s not sure enough to wish

Hold my hand, don’t run; now do as your told
Stay strong, stay still, stay here; don’t let life unfold
Don’t let the fishwives win, don’t let them tell you how to live;
They’ve nothing more to give, nothing more

But what’s a shooting star anyway? It’s just a burning boulder, just an  unwelcome stone. She shakes herself off, pulls up her jeans, and heads back to the fire. She never did like marshmallows