A boy asked his mother

If anyone had claimed the skies

'No my boy. No one owns them.'

'Good. Nothing so beautiful deserves to be captured

In anything but a picuture or a lyrical form.'

The mother shoot her five year old son an odd look

And wondered what on earth he could have meant

Laying in his bed that night the boy saw a shooting star

He wished upon it that no one

Would ever be held captive again