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Lost Chance
It's not that late, but it is winter
And already dark outside
I wander out and looking up
Spy the first star of the evening
They say that star is magical
It can grant your hearts' desire
Any wish; it will be yours
Yet for what, should I wish
I can't help but wonder
I go inside to sit and ponder
Yet the list just keeps getting longer
Eventually I do make up my mind
And go outside to make my wish
But now the sky is full of starlight
Where now that first star of the night.
poem
by
Marilyn Shepperson
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