I’d captured in a honey jar.
It shined for me and me alone.
I heard it cry, “Let me go home!” I asked my little shooting star, “Aren’t you happy in your jar? I’ve placed you highly on a shelf, From everyone except myself.” “I cannot live inside a jar. Who or what, do you think you are; To have me hidden on a shelf, From everyone except yourself?” “I need to shine and have some fun. I blaze for all, not just for one. So set me free.” the star insisted. I felt no guilt as it persisted. “I cannot set you free to shine. I captured you so now you’re mine. Get used to shining only for one. You’ll survive without your fun!” My star began to dim and fade. And once more it did beg and bade. “My light is dying, fading fast, Not much longer will I last. Let me go home, I beg of you. What more can I possibly say or do?” “Leave me alone! You cannot go! So stop your whining, the answer is no!” You’ll stay in that jar and fade or shine. I don’t set free what I take as mine. I came upon an empty jar, Which once had held a shooting star. It faded ’til there was no light, Then slipped away amidst the night.