Shooting Stars.

The day began with shooting stars.
It was beautiful.
It was perfect.
This day was meant to be beautiful.
A day to celebrate life, not mourn it.

The day returned to night far too soon.
Too soon did the souls of young children join those shooting stars that streak the black sky so beautifully,
Just as black streaks down their mourning mother's cheeks.
These pixie sized children becoming nothing but pixie dust in the night sky.
And while the beauty of their lives is appreciated so greatly at first,
How many people will stay out in the cold long enough to see the beauty of this meteor shower last?
♠ ♠ ♠
Constructive criticism only!