That falling star is mine.
The one full of my wishes.
The dates and times bundled
like knotted twine. It’s all there,
the broken hearts, skinned knees,
minced oaths and promises waiting
to be fulfilled. Like the one
about my father. His passing too
soon and the wish to hear him say
my name one more time. There are
graduations. Moving to new places.
New names and children on the way.
The tail of that star are the roads I’ve
Traveled, appearing now all somehow
straightened out.
There’s another falling star just to the
right of that one. That’s mine too.
Roger Singer 