Shooting Star

I made a wish on a

star that was falling.

How foolish was I?

Perhaps wishes are a fancy

best left for little kids in the backyard

on a warm summer night,

because I can’t afford them anymore.

At the end of the rainbow you say?

I need what’s in that pot to pay for them all.

All those wishes made long ago.

Well that’s a long fucking walk to take in a day.

Cuz, that old damn rainbow seems to move

away with every careful step I take.

Now if I could find that shooting star

That just fell from the sky so high from

outer space into my backyard.

Feel it’s warmth, it’s fading half remembered glow,

as I hold it with hands held tight.

Well that would be something I reckon

That would be alright.

By Philip Wardlow