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