Fallen Stars

• Eleanor Guinn
• Poetry
• 2003

The brillant lights that fill the sky,
Are beautiful as they are.
From time to time they fall,
And we call them shooting stars.

If only people knew,
Where these stars did go,
They would all be out there fishing,
One may stab their toe.

For apon the jagged rocks,
These beauties stay divine.
Now stars of the sea,
Having lost their shine.