If I could wish upon a star
I wouldn't use that wish for me
though I'm hurting and in need
I wouldn't use that wish to flee

I would fly up to that bright north star
and sit upon its great big lap
I would tell it that I came afar
with one wish upon my lips

My wish isn't little and won't be easy
it will be hard to grant and might not come true
this wish I have kept in the pocket of my heart
for years and now I'll tell it to you

In the digital world I seek validation,
Please visit my page, send prayers and salvation.
Propose cures to solve my problems, conjured from thin air,
If your reply isn’t lightspeed, will I notice you’re not there?

Okay, maybe I jumped in fast, is it really a surprise?
When I gaze all day at my screen, my avarice veiled as disguise.
My followers, need input, to make me feel defined.
Desire and admire me, pen your words here to humankind.

I didn't earn it at first.
Love was like wind.
I could sense it all around her,
but I could not see any use for it.

Still, with patience, we walked
in tall stands of trees together.
Ones that had been there for so long,
red-barked and towering with wisdom.

The branches quivered and stirred
as we passed their anchored homes.
Murmurs perhaps, of their discontent with me.

I reached out to feel the deep crevices
furrowed in the rough and weathered bark.
Counsel, it seemed, for a fool.

They sailed the misty, moonlit streams
where you breathed lines of honeydew,
to steal you from your isle of dreams
where Aphrodite cared for you.

(Your beauty-breathing ways so wild
wove words of wonder from your youth,
which softly spoke and sweetly smiled
to those who sought for sacred truth.)

Toward the coast they hurried you
to exile, ‘cross the sea beyond.
A kiss for friends, love’s brief adieu;
with tender tears they did respond.

What do you truly want?
The question so simple
Yet so difficult
“I want money!”
“I want a car!”
“I want to be famous!”
Others answer with ease.
But those all feel so greedy.
So vain.
I know what I want.
It’s what I have always wanted
But I don’t want to say it aloud
I fear I may sound cruel.
A happy family.
I say it slowly and quietly.
Sure it isn’t money,
Or cars,
Or fame.
But it would be worth all of that.
All of that multiplied by infinity
Such a simple question.

A Penny for a Poppy
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

An old man wakes up tired
He has nightmares instead of dreams
He feels the age-old aches and pains
Like he was 21 again

He keeps his hair to army standards
There are some habits you don’t forget
He presses his uniform just right
And pins medals to his chest

He sets up the box full of red flowers
And sits down to wait
For someone who remembers
The sacrifice he made

Each night before I fall asleep
I feel her breath caress my cheek,
I feel her hair like softest dew
Her scented flesh that wakes anew
Feelings strong I can't ignore
Until, that is, she starts to snore.

It all boils down to numbers, you know.
How many days do I have left to live?
The grass beneath my feet, how many blades?
1, 2, 3, 4
Even numbers are the sweetest,
breathe in.
5, 6, 7, 8
breath out.
Persuading my mind to become calm,
The days go by, and by, and by,
How long have I lived for?
100 years.
each day begins with me being enveloped in fear
will I die this day? tomorrow?
Counting down to my
demise
The sun rises again,

If time is a river, where does it flow
To the sea or the edge of the earth?
In life and in death, and the time that we know
Can we come back anew for rebirth?

If time is a road, where does it lead
Is it too far from the here and the now?
Does it grow strong like an invasive weed
On the sun dappled vines of a bough

If the passing of time means you’ve come to the end
Fear not, embrace journey with open sight
I don’t know what is true so I won’t pretend
I'll float into distant light

And off I go to walk a mile
Amongst the grass and flowers
I find a bench and sit a while
Maybe minutes but probably hours

I see the water ripple and sway
A sure sign of fish beneath
A raven shouts and flies away
To join it's lover on the heath

The lovely iris nods her head
In the gentle balmy breeze
The jogger puffs and pants ahead
Then stops as their lungs give a wheeze