Shooting Star

 
The naked branches of the trees
Left alone with chilling breeze
When leaves have left through the air
And none is there to smell my hair
A heavy stone of solitude
Carried around with fortitude
An unread book with hopes intact
And none to see the closing act
But it is what it is and we are what we are
You were lucky, you saw a shooting star
 
 
 
Hanna Kannerstål