When you wished upon that star,
You wished and wished you’d go so far.
Yet far for you and, in this instance,
May not cover the same distance
As roads traveled by some others,
Calloused fathers and weary mothers.
They provided you with imagery
To further creativity.
Plants of life and literature,
Nurturing their miniature.
Yet by the window, you still sit,
Open book, not into it.
Waiting, maybe, for that cricket,
Who often solves the sticky wicket.
The sport of it, the fun and cheer,
Gazing out, is it out there?
The truth, the truth, nothing but the truth,
“That’s my goal,” would say the sleuth.
To get to the bottom, the core, the heart,
Of why you’re wishing on that star.


If you liked this, check out some of these other great poems.

The Banshee’s Decree

Dear Misery

The Grand Player


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.