Falling Stars

On one cryptic night in summer,
When the witching stars were falling,
Many happy thought of other
Days and dreams we were recalling.

There were hopes for days yet coming,
And some promises made only
To suppress the constant drumming
Of a feeling vaguely lonely;

And his private wish for going:
In the time when he's forgotten,
All his dreams will still be growing.
For he would not wait for autumn.

Since, in midst of starry showers,
I have heard an angel crying
For the dreams we dreamed the hours
Daddy knew that he was dying.

- Edna Huber (1971)