Wishing-Bone

I love the wishing bone in my windowsill,
The way it longs to be broken, sitting on that ledge.
Never jumping or inching close, it simply sits and waits
For me to pick it up and share a wish with someone close to me.
People complain of broken hearts and body parts and feelings of despair,
But the wishing bone offers itself, for no personal gain.
I hold it up and say "make a wish"; the wishing-bone, it trembles,
For it's true wish in being granted, to give a wish to you.
You shut your eyes and think real hard; we snap the wishing-bone,
It's you that got your wish-come-true but you are not alone.
I love the wishing-bone in my windowsill,
The way it longs to be broken, sitting on that ledge