I toss my coin into the wishing well,
Watch it while it flutters down, away
Out of sight but not mind.

I sit beside the wishing well,
Wishing well on those who could use it most--
Wishing well on those still lingering near to my heart.

I watch as my wish wanders high,
Even while the coin sinks low.

Where wish and coin will land is anyone's guess,
Which I suppose must be the point of a wish, yes?

The hope of promises which you seek but are not promised,
The dream of the coin and the wish alike
Landing softly on the ears of a friend,
Bringing you both, thus,
Home again.

"Wish well,"
Echoes then.

Which well, I wonder,
Is best suited for wishing well?
Here, there, or anywhere...

Well--

Anyway,
I suppose it matters not--
It's the thought of a wish that does the work.
        And does it well.

As night spreads its ribbons of darkness
Loneliness taps at my window pane,
But too lost in reverie am I
To pay heed to its doleful refrain

Wishful thinking helps me to escape
From the madness of Life's fickle ways;
Though make-believe is a tangled web,
I thrive in its ethereal haze

How sweet the proverbial nectar
That flows from his lips onto mine;
What bliss I derive from a romance
Only my wild impulse could design

I swoon at his expressions of love
Sung and spoken in poetic verse;
(Though at times my heart scoffs at pretense,
Seeing not a  blessing, but a curse)

Yet, when I gaze deep into his eyes
I thrill to see love's reflection there;
He need only take hold of my hand
And together we climb Heaven's stair

O, how painful  are the loveless hours
Of reality I must endure;
In my dreary solitude I find
Wishful thinking holds a strange allure

Ah! but then reality holds sway ---
Once again the snake devours the dove;
But wishful thinking soon restores my peace
With its exquisite mimicry of love!

i know it's unfair
to have left you there
yet, silently wish
you would still have me
in case my mind changed.

i would love to
be able to identify
a bird from its call
or the shape of
wide-spread wings
as one flies overhead
in theory
it may seem impressive
but if i were to
successfully distinguish
a chiffchaff from
a willow warbler
based on the patterning
and colour of
its plumage
or the shape
and length of
its tail feathers
i struggle to think
of a single person
who would respond
with more than
an indifferent
mocking or
pandering "oh"

Is there something I can find
Buried deep in my mind,

An allure which ensures
Me of hope?

So pure and unadorned,
So naked, as was born,

Just a light, just a spark,
That which pulls upon
The heart,

To awaken, and allow
Me to see?

Is there something, buried deep,
Among the feelings I keep,

Is there hope for the one
Who has none?

No more sadness,
No more pain,

No more for a stain,
For a shadow of
What I once had?

No more crying,
No more lying,

No more wishing
I was dying,

Is there hope for the one,
Who has none?

i dont want to sleep.
i want to keep chasing stardust on lips i'll never taste,
reaching for jupiter when she shines so brightly in the sky,
reminding me of all that could've been—
could still be.
never was.

god, these sleepless hours,
the way the stories chase themselves around my head,
louder than dreams too fleeting.

there's a silence here, in the night,
when everything is still.
a promise that everything could be okay.
could be.

and then the dawn puts stardust to bed,
and i'm left chasing something
i never even got a taste of.