The Starfish sat on the sand, crying.
"I look up at the stars in the sky, but I cannot fly. I look at the fish in the sea, but they are not shaped like me.
Where do I fit in?"
The ocean sighed deeply, replying,
“If sky-stars tried to swim,
Their lights would grow dim
And they would twinkle no more.
But on swimming starfish
Is where sky-stars will wish,
That they could be stars on the shore”
(tootwofoursquare wrote a beautiful ending to the Tiny Story I started, so I wanted to combine them into one text record.)