Once I was a child staring in wonder
into the night to see my shooting star
to which I would confide my heart’s prayer
What beautiful gem is a child’s prayer
Its innocence is itself a wonder
sparkling as brightly as the brightest star.
Alas! a shooting star is never a star
It never had time for a humble prayer
but instead cut quickly through a child’s wonder.
I wonder if a shooting star is itself a prayer.