The first star that I find, you're my satellite

Who besides me is foolish enough to sign up for astronomy class during the spring semester? Plagued by freezing ink, cursing if I forgot to bring the more dependable graphite instrument, extremities suffering frostbite, I was kept warm only by thoughts of you, of pounding on the door like a policeman to gain entry, of veritably running to your room to pounce spread-eagle upon your slumbering body like my own hasty version of the moon landing. One giant leap for womankind. And then, by your relaxed allowance, lying there for inconsequentially indeterminable spans of time, eyes closed or lazily gazing out the fogged window, I never felt so at ease. From comfort and contentment beyond measure to this... cold, dark, emptiness in the vacuum of space. But even now, floating heavily in this weightless void, my eye can pick out and stay trained on the glow of your light. Thrusters are engaged, and I am inching ever closer, but maybe you will always be just a little out of reach.