Chasing Shooting Stars
I’m always chasing shooting stars,
they never seem to land.
The few times I’ve gotten close
they’ve burned out in my hand.
Streaking into my atmosphere,
whispering words they know I long to hear.
Burning hot beside me, my skin
begins to sear.
Shooting stars stay long enough
to know they have my heart.
When they’re sure I’ve given it,
these shooting stars depart.
Poem copyright protected, and the property of Victoria Feathers, and not to be used without permission.