Shooting Stars

The penned sadness of a poetess
as evident in the threads
of a daughter gravely ill
battling the corrupt tissue
seeping in the only foe;
Immune deadly radiation,
took me to a time of my cousin.

When such vibrancy and youth
sprung from tips of golden locks
dived and swam in azure pupils
until darkness cast upon her,
those locks fell withered to dust
innocence lost to spreading beasts.

In final months - she'd often star gaze,
as would, wonder itself
meeting its first fence.
Curiosity peaked when a shooting star
raced by,
'Up there - will I fly someday'
would whimper the now angel.

Time and again I glance to the heavens
and wait to glimpse at such a star,
to imagine that vibrant
blossoming soul - eagerly boarding
that speeding coaster
to another world.

Carefully I'd listen
for her sweet soprano tones
to miraculously call down
from that thrill ride above;
'Marky look at me'.
Was I selfish to want one more day
everyday, near her?
The silhouettes were too impatient.

Maybe your brave Robin
will too - soar into that stellar haze.
That you might
glance sadly skywards
in wonder;
if that star gone by is my daughter,
what heaven awaits my baby bird?
When will I see her again?