The telescope rests now,
its giant eye watching the stars.
The boy sleeps, his ceiling glows
with painted constellations.
Stars arrange themselves—
a story he refuses to read.
He finds a one-eyed dog, a unicorn that lost
its horn, a motherless boy.
When stars peek, like tiny
suns, he goes up to his room to watch.
His father’s voice quivers
through the carpet, punctuated
by clinking glass. He stares through
a telescope pretending
there are other worlds.
A constellation of tumbling stars,
like hair, framing blue eyes
that see how tough nights are.
When he screams
his father doesn’t come.
Sweated blankets cocoon him.
Starlight slips through the window,
almost kneels next to him,
and burns the terrors away.
His face eases into sleep.
The starlight fades, catches on
the photo of his mother,
and is gone.
JKolasch
Jacob Kolasch 
This one really has imagery that hits home. The concept of the boy faced with trouble beyond him wishing for help and comfort from the stars is so ultimately sad, because those burning points of light are so far away and are already in the past.
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