Upon your star, I cast a wish
a dream of souls entwined
and to feel my heart again.
Alas, it seems, was just a wish.
It was chance, I chose to take
liking rubbing oil upon a lamp
in hopes a genie would appear.
Sigh, the lamp, was only fake.
A note in bottle, washed ashore
seems unopened and read not
perchance it floated back to sea.
Hope, to find, and not ignore.
This ghost it seems, is haunting me
enjoying sport of hide and seek
wants to know my misery.
Stay, reveal to me, your mystery.