The man at the ice-cream shop
Has been asking about you.
He says the peppermint ice cream is lonely.
He says
He’s never had a customer
Who danced among the tables quite like you did.
I tell him I know,
That you’re one of a kind,
That you believe in good ice cream and bad jokes
And you dance like you are made of light.
Then I leave,
Because I can’t bear to say the truth.
I can’t bear to say you’re gone.
I guess, in the end, we’re all lonely without you.
YOU ARE READING
The Wishing Game
Short Story"i think that someone hollowed out the stars and poured all of their magic into you."
