Wish Upon an Airplane

I saw a shooting star
But it was just an airplane.
Still, I made a wish
It's yet to come true.

And you wait forever,
You wait forever to fly.
You have dreams
Where you split the sea
And the years pass you by.
You smell the air,
You taste it on your tongue
Then you look through the window
And see a grey winter street.

More cruel summers than fingers and toes and so many other waits. It will cost one life never to wait again, no more, no less. Taking no substitutes is a strange way in its own right, when what you yearn for is essentially a substitute. And every single little detail remains etched in your mind, and lines are no longer lines. They start flying away from you and they drop you somewhere where you no longer see the land, and somewhere where all is land.

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