there is a well
in the middle of the road i walk on the way home
everytime
everyday
every chance i get, i toss a coin inside
it's an endless cycle, a routine of stopping in the middle of the road,
tossing a coin,
and whispering your name
over and over again under my breath
the well is old and aged, its walls beginning to grow moss
but everytime i throw a coin inside
those mossy walls turn into a portal,
a gate into space
my coin lands into the nightsky, 
taking its place as one of the stars;

i have thrown many, many coins
and i am reminded each time
when i look up at night
that you take the form of a wish fit neatly into a coin,
and my wish lies among the stars.