Vestige
A silent, speeding, shooting star
Flashed ‘cross the night sky’s dark;
Then gone, except it etched within
My memory a mark.
That’s all that’s left of that brief burst,
The life that was a light,
That dazzled as it dashed across
The ebony of night.
When my swift flight is o’er and there’s
No longer light nor place,
My soothing thought as shooting star:
I left somewhere a trace.
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.
You express so well what I attempted in this poem (Warning: bad free verse ahead) http://wordcoaster.wordpress.com/2011/06/27/ill-be-back-will-you/
Really good, Dennis. Powerful message and well-versed.
Thanks!
So lovely.
Thank you!
Nice one – maybe one reason we write poetry.
Probably so. It’s like leaving a bunch of kids.