William Hromada

If I had Three Wishes

f I Had Three Wishes

First, I’d wish for time—

not forever, just a pocketful

to sip dawn light through the window,

to let the rain drum without hurry.

Second, I’d wish for quiet—

the hush after thunder,

where thoughts float like dust motes,

no echo, no demand.

Third? I’d wish for nothing—

let the lamp stay cold,

let the air keep its secrets.

Because these two already

feel like borrowed magic.

(And if a fourth slipped in…

I’d wish for one more sunrise,

just to watch it happen.)