Meteor shower, Swift-Tuttle,
celestial message in a bottle.
My thoughts as Perseids
instant and forgotten,
pinpricks of light in the Sargasso of doubt.
I cry stardust, for I
won't live to see
this comet, or
the transit of Venus again.
Then, during the lightstorm, the thought,
searingly bright;
neither will you.
Stephen A. Roberts
This poem appears in the Poetic Republic's third e-book "Poems To Talk About : Warming Bees".
For further details and availability of this e-book please go to http://www.poeticrepublic.com/