People come here to where the stars burned bright.
Stirring embers of memories, sifting through the ash They’re looking for Patsy, looking for Johnny Cash
Tourists ignore my singing, walk by my coin sprinkled case, go inside where it’s warm, go inside for ten-dollar drinks, where they’ll tip the band for playing lousy covers, tell them they sound real deal. Like they’d know.
They walk by they look right through me, unseen space between the stars Just another street bum, all I have is my guitar
Cold. It’ll be another sleepless night of shivering, of wishing underneath the stars.
Written for Carrot Ranch, December 28, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a wishing star. It can be central to the story or used in a different way. You can have a character interact or not. Go where the prompt leads. Respond by January 2, 2018 to be included in the compilation (published January 3). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!