The streetlamps line the black street like a string of pearls,

Decorating the night far down the road before vanishing

At a spot that cannot be seen.

A distant whoosh of cars on a freeway. Flashes of headlights,

Brightening the darkness in short-lived,

Intervals.

The click-click of anxious heels against sidewalk,

She shifts her weight from one leg, to the other. And back again.

Humming an hopeful melody, head tilted back precariously, to see

The sky.

Stars fill her eyes, and the looming glow of the moon. Her gaze,

Flickers. From side to side.

Waiting.

Waiting to see.

An approaching rumble breaks the ritual. The bus skids to a halt, collecting her and her sigh off the street and away into the city.

The ladybug crawls across the bench, then stops, twitches her shiny wings as

A reflection bounces off her, a flash of light.

The shooting star makes a short trip,

Decorating her wings across her spots before vanishing,

At a spot that cannot be seen.