Falling star

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(c) Google search

Dearest, remember last December night

when a forlorn star fell from the sky?

And even as it beautifully burned,

it left a trail of ashes behind.

You followed the star as it faded from sight

and I followed a tear that rolled down your eye.

Dearest, I had so much to tell you then

but my words were lost in that view

where the star had fallen and died

and I, too, fell and died for you.

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Prophet of arts

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(c) Jeff Barson

He

wasn’t

just

a passing fantasy

inspiring my poetic blues,

he

was

the

chief prophet of arts

teaching muses how to muse.