Thursday, 11 July 2013


They twinkle upon us at night,
When its dark they give us light.
There are millions of them in the sky,
All shining, bright above high.

They seem to smile at us,
Knowing all that we've done.
They disguise themselves well,
In the light of the sun.

My mother once said,
That those who are dead,
Pass away on Earth,
And become stars instead.

I often wonder if that is true.
And if its so,
Dear Grandfather,
I'll always be looking at you.

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