The Black & White Poet

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Shooting Star

Next to the small town cemetery – I stand alone.
The deadly tombstones have not yet made a shift in the dirt-
They are fresh, yet no flowers exist.
He…. he was upon my mind, shall I look for some sign?
The cold bars are black. The gate is loose, and it swings.
The wind sings, and the leaves are set free.
Angels must supervise the galaxy…
For I'd shiver because it's so brisk and bleak.
September's exit is taking off with such rapid speed-
Never to have need again this year.
And he… he's not here- There is no hug. No embrace tonight.
But my mind race, and my heart is kept cozy and comforted-
because the thought of him still rest upon it.
His face, his kiss… his love.
I drift over and above toward the parking lot
and begin to stare at the great sky…
So clear and beautiful is each star that shine tonight.
I study it while every one else laughs like I'm not there..
I stare, I stare… a shooting star appear.

~DaYnA e. 9/24/03

ok so that wasn't the “Best poem ever” but still.

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Shooting Star