Shooting Star

I saw a shooting star today . . . .
Flashed through the sky for you and I.
Yes, a miracle never seen by me until today . . . .
Flash in the sky, cold frosty night.

Crisp freshness of a starlit night . . . .
It should be you who's here,
Breathing in this winter air,
Your golden hair, silver against the moon . . . .

You are the white dove that roams the force . . . .
. . . . me? . . . . Oh I'm just wishing.

BM109

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© John Buckingham 1981