8 December 2011 2 Comments
A long straight rolling road
Brown between autumn fields
Late at night on the high plain
Comes a brilliant shooting star
Arcing through the twinkling black
Burning fiercely fast and bright
High across the inky starry night
Through thin and unsustaining air
Flaming hot and dying in a wink
Briefly seen alone that night
We reconvene at the car,
Loaded with our pumpkins.
We return to young lives,
Still burning bright.