Their Shooting Stars

It does appear to me that souls' deceased;
Whom died by cancer's deadly spread of mole,
Be gifted special ride to heaven's priest -
By shooting stars, to pass their final toll.
From times of old when they did stare the stars
And ponder if their time outshines their death,
To body's virus'd, freckled with the scars,
Then idle nothingness, 'till loss of breath.
Whom suffered, fitting that a star it be
And I do too in ponder there above;
If there will be that death awaiting me;
Then I'll glance down good-bye'ng those I love.

It seems that more of shooting stars fly by
How sad it is, how oft I search the sky.