Foolishly

Stars don’t fall

they burn out black

what we make wishes on

are dust and bits of stone

entering our atmosphere

and burning bright for only the moment

it takes

someone to shout, “Look at that!”

and another head to turn and say, “I missed it.”

Foolishly,

we wish our futures on things appearing in the night sky

being not at all what they seem

I wished you’d love me

on a streak of light in the sky

but you both burned out

before midnight.