I was born in a junkyard,
not even on a bundle of rags
or the seat of an old wrecked car
but the dust below.

But when my eyes opened
I could crawl to the edge and see
the moving grass and the trees
and this I began to dream on,
though the worms were eating me.

And at night through the twists of metal 
I could see a single star—one, not even two.
Its light was a thing of wonder,
and I learned something precious 
that would also be good for you.

Though the worms kept biting and pinching
I fell in love with this star.
I stared at it every night—
that light so clear and far.

Listen, a junkyard puppy
learns quickly how to dream. 
Listen, whatever you see and love—
that’s where you are.