Pink Mountain

Everyone assumes

Wishes can only be made

On stars or candles.

But maybe not

If I was good girl

My mom would pull out the jar

A jar that held wonders

In colors of the rainbow

And mysteries

No one could guess

In the jar

Was a cream dust and Colored drops

Most of the time pink

 Saturating everything they touched

My mom told me to close my eyes

And wish for anything I could dream of

With a clear liquid

One that smelled over ripe milk

My mom made a mountain grow

From the simple things in the jar

Time after time

The jar knew

I wished for a pink mountain to grow

Like every time before