October 28, 2012
The sky holds a billion dreams,
Some too secret to tell.
All filled with secret hopes,
And thoughts for a wishing well.

When a star comes flying by,
I cross my fingers tight;
I close my eyes and make a wish,
Then wait throughout the night.

I look up at the stars,
That sprinkle the vast dark skies
They make up many images,
Then blink back like golden eyes.

Some have special names,
And make art with little dots.
But most of them are listeners,
That hold my every thought.

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