I'm lying down on the roof,
Looking at the stars in the sky,
Waiting to make a wish,
As the shooting star would pass by.
Seconds, minutes and hours have gone,
It's soon becoming cold.
But I'm waiting for the shooting star,
As legends to me were told.
Of how the cold mistral winds
Didn't stop them from wishing
They'd waited for long, but t'was worth it,
They'd even go to the river for fishing!
But they had this uncanny desire
On wishing upon a shooting star,
They'd wished for their families,
That they're safe wherever they are.
And then I saw something white,
Flying in the air,
T'was twinkling very bright,
And looked really fair.
"That's the shooting star," I cried,
And wished upon it for you,
'Cause I'd not been in touch for long,
But wished for your dreams to come true.
But later did I realise that it wasn't a star,
That was falling from the sky.
That was you achieving the dream,
Of soaring up high!