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.)