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reflecting sunset over a large lake with a single swan swimmingPerhaps they are not stars but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones shines down to let us know they are happy

Epitaph For A Darling Lady - Dorothy Parker

All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.

Shiny day on shiny day
Tumbled in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.

Leave for her a red young rose,
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.


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