Under The Falling Star

I saw a shooting star blaze through the sky, And what’s left to say when all words run dry? Still, I speak and affirm, come what may Bald or blonde, sane or astray, Four legs or one, it doesn’t matter to me; You’re special though why, ... I can’t clearly see... Like bees that seek flowers, drawn by unseen ties, I follow your presence without knowing why. Perhaps it’s a dream, and soon I’ll wake To find that your smiles were not mine to take. You say you give no hope yet in your eyes, I glimpse something rare, a quiet surprise. And if you ask what truly means the most, It’s not grand gestures or distant boasts. Just thirty minutes of talking with you Could brighten my day, maybe my week too. And then, when the next star cuts through the night, I’ll whisper a wish, soft and light Not for forever, nor promises to keep, But just for a moment that I’ll never want to leave.