Shooting Stars (A Sonnet) Poem by A.M. Gouedard

The lamps shine down from windows high above,
Burning moths, white wings against the light.
Old roses hang against the well worn walls
Amongst the darker tangle of the leaves,
Their blossoms gleaming as each petal falls,
While lovers sleep entranced in tender dreams,
Turning now and then throughout the night,
Entwined and locked together by their limbs.
I stand below here, pierced and polarised.
The galaxies are singing psalms and hymns.
Looking up I lose all sense of time.
I see a sky that's full of shooting stars.

No wish I make can change our mortal fate.
It's beautiful, it's passing and it's late.