Vestige Poem by Dennis Lange
Vestige
A silent, speeding, shooting star
Flashed 'cross the night sky's dark;
Then gone, except it etched within
My memory a mark.
That's all that's left of that brief burst,
The life that was a light,
That dazzled as it dashed across
The ebony of night.
When my swift flight is o'er and there's
No longer light nor place,
My soothing thought as shooting star:
I left somewhere a trace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 2:07:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
