I wish

my mother sighed
wishing doesn’t
make it so
desperate,
deep inside
I wanted yearnings
to come true

she stole
enchantment—
where I wish it,
tap it with my wand
and lo!
it comes to pass

although she was right,
the means
were heavy handed
permit the child her fancy
filled with beating wings
and potions where poof!
problems vanish
and dreams come true

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.