Frozen lips.

.
Make a wish on a star, a shooting star,
Whisper it, say it, your most earnest wish,
If you close your eyes, the comet so far
May grant it, your wish, from delicate lips.
.
And all night, you may wonder if it had
Heard and made your deep desire become
A reality, you would be most glad,
For you wanted it so bad, all along.
.
The leaves rustle, the wind in harmony.
They stop their song and wait, holding their breath.
Has your wish been made a reality?
Or did the star choose to turn itself deaf?
.
The shooting star, magical, far away,
Had it granted your most earnest wish?
Made in a world, so distant, in today,
Made on a winter's night, through frozen lips?
.

The End

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