A Drop in the Bucket

A shooting star shot past.
 
But I kept my gaze downcast
For tonight these troubles
Tongue-tied the wordsmith.
 
A wish was to be made.
 
This wishy-washy renegade
Dodged its question
And pled the fifth.
 
“What was your wish?”
She exclaimed.
“I can’t tell you,
I’m afraid.”
 
The rooster’s second crow
Came forthwith.
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