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Searching the sky for shooting stars, I saw one streak, and yelled; Then it was gone and dark again— But left a golden trail. With sparkles and specks of golden light, Twinkling, soft and frail, Marking the path of its fleeting spark Was its glorious, golden trail. I saw another streak that night A moment—small and pale, Though it was not but half as grand As the one with the golden trail. The first I saw was bright and quick And certainly far from pale, But its wonder was quite outdone By the one with the golden trail. There was another, short and bright, Like a gentle, soft exhale, And yet its grace could not compare To the one with the golden trail. There was another, bright, and big As a glowing piece of hail, But its beauty was diminished much By the one with the golden trail. And, yes, there was another one Whose beauty none could veil, Unless you once compared it to The one with the golden trail. A great, bright one, that fast across The whole night sky did sail Was glorious, and yet was not as grand As the one with the golden trail. In all that night, with all that show Of meteors of all scale, I could not find another one That left a golden trail. ’Tis true they gave all that they could And glory they unveiled, So why did none unleash such joy As the one with the golden trail? It seems it gave part of itself To cast its special spell, For only such a selfless act Could leave a golden trail. It was not first, nor last, nor big, In fact it was quite frail, Yet it remains unmatched and rare In view of its golden trail. The others were all great, it’s true, But memories soon can fail; Yet never will my mind forget The one with the golden trail. People, too, are just like this, Meteors small and frail, Whose lives are short and quick, And few will leave a golden trail. But if you learn a lesson here, Then, as through life you sail, You may brighten the sky of life With your own golden trail. A smile here, a kindness there, Sympathy for one’s ail, A bit of love and giving is how To make a golden trail. And when your life is over and done, And your body, it does fail, Those left behind will remember you— The one with the golden trail. |