If you asked one of young,
what those tiny ***** of sun,
meant to them, the'd grin,
and say,
'Because it's pretty, of course.'

if you asked one of sparse,
the'd retort back to you grumpil-ay,
'curse the stars, let it be day!'

If you asked the broken,
who's love was mistaken for a token,
or maybe just there past won't go aw-ay,
they might say, quietly,
'There the light in the darkness, ice broken,
shootings stars to show that battle scars..'
they might trail off, and then silently look at you,
and say with there eyes,
'Might just heal.'