Within the great perhaps,

Within the closets filled with charts and graphs,

A whisper of wish lay hidden.

 

The whisper is cashmere and quality,

When you turn you ear at just the right degree,

You could hear what the wish was saying.

 

“I wish I may, I wish I might,

With every frustration,

I wish I could get everything right.

 

If in combustion of sorts,

I could set sail from all ports.

That would be a wish of mine granted.

 

If my writing could always be charming,

Oh, if it could always be elegantly slanted,

That would the thing.

 

If I could be a giant, that all could see,

What a life that would be.

 

If I could make things to where no child had a reason to cry,

I’d give my life and happily die. “

 

Now, the wish says so much, the thread count is unbelievably high.

It would take hours to find out all the things that whisper of wish would wish if this and if that.

It wishes to change so much

And all at once, too.

What is a world with only a few wishing granting fairies going to do?