I wonder if stars love other stars too,
The way that we weird little humans so do.
I wonder if they talk about friends and nice stars,
And who is the closest with that red guy named mars.
I wonder if stars are then insecure too,
And if they get low and sometimes feel blue.
So I wonder if stars are happy and sad,
And love all the good times and hate all the bad.
And I wonder if stars speak poorly about others,
I wonder if they sometimes disappoint their own mother.
I wonder if stars put on a fake face,
To impress other stars higher up in cold space.
I wonder if stars become angry with peers,
And if they hold many grudges for many light years.
I wonder if stars break hearts and move on,
And I wonder if they sigh when they fade with the dawn.
I wonder if stars fear death like we do,
And I wonder if they also have thought it all through.
I wonder if stars miss friends and have foes,
I wonder if they wonder where shooting stars go.
And I wonder if they cry like we cry when we die.
And I wonder if they miss those that fell from on high.
For the shooting star makes us all laugh and wish,
But we never think about the ones that perish.
Because all the other stars way up in the sky,
Must think of that star, the one that has died.
But we weird little humans on small planet Earth,
Just use it for tidings, good thoughts, and some mirth.
But the shooting star’s the saddest thing around;
It’s gone from its friends to never be found.
So next time you see a star shooting, falling with grace,
Just wish it was back, back home in its place.