She stares at the horizon,
the orange of the sunset flashes
in her chocolate eyes.
And wishes for one thing.

He watches the moon,
the glow illuminating his hair,
setting it on fire.
And dreams of one thing.

Too ugly.
Too overweight.
Too shy.
Too quiet.
Too serious.
He couldn't like me.
Nobody could.

Too annoying.
Too loud.
Too unpleasant.
Too over-the-top.
Too easy going.
Why would she like me?
Nobody could.

Their wishes,
together like the sun and moon,
the stars and sky,
light and dark,
twirled together,
like snow and wind.

But they were wishes.