Some people make wishes on a star, some turn to fortune
tellers, some turn over to a deck of cards--a waste of time
good fellows. Life is not a story told with a crystal ball and the queen of
hearts and the jack of spades will truly, truly fall. Twinkle, Twinkle little star is a planet in outer space
so wish you may and wish you might and wish your life away. For days have come and days have gone, too old now for fairy
tales; time has tore that page away a new page has prevailed. A time to wake up to reality, a cold hard slap in the face,
where wishes are no longer needed in this grown-up race. Still a dream is sweet to savor where one can run and hide
and see the beauty in the rainbow and count the starry skies. While time plays hell with life, ah, while time plays hell with life.

by Helen Goodall

Other poems of HELEN GOODALL (2)

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