Wishes on Shooting Stars

a soft, dreamy poem about the wishes we make on shooting stars

We whisper wishes into midnight air,
catching falling stars like secrets we dare.
A streak of light, a trembling spark—
a promise tossed across the dark.

We close our eyes and hope it hears,
the quiet prayers, the hidden fears,
the things we ache for but never say,
the dreams we hold but keep at bay.

Every flash is a maybe, a might,
a small miracle burning out of sight.
For a heartbeat, the sky feels near—
as if it leans down just to hear.

And though the stars can’t choose our fate,
still we wish, because we wait—
for love to come, for wounds to heal,
for something true, for something real.

So when the heavens fall in sparks,
we give them pieces of our hearts,
hoping the universe remembers who we are
in the silent wishes
we make on a shooting star.