Shooting Stars
Stars were a matter of faith,
star of wonder, star of light,
till one August night
when she walked with a boy
down a Gloucestershire lane,
and he told her star stories,
taught her star names,
Lyra, Libra, Cassiopeia,
pagan, lovely and strange;
they might have been girls he had loved.
Best night for meteors, he said,
and as if they had heard him, they came:
some were ghost flames, half-believed,
Was that one? Did you see?
Silver shocks at the edge of her eye.
Others trailed ribbons of white
through the sky, made her gasp
with delight: Look at me!
She counted each pearly bright bead
as it dived into darkness.
Annie Fisher is a storyteller based in Somerset. She enjoys writing both serious and light poetry.