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 an ear 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?