A planet can never leave its sun, and that is the trap Nausha Ameen builds in «eternal wish». In six short lines the speaker becomes a planet and someone else becomes the sun, and the whole poem is one unbroken wait. The central idea is a quiet, painful kind of devotion. The speaker doesn't ask to be loved, answered, or even brought closer. The only wish is to be seen.
The poem opens with a flat declaration: "You are the sun." There is no hedging, and the words are given in full, as if this were simply a fact of nature. The next line shrinks to "I'm the planet", with a contraction where the first line had two full words. The grammar is evenly matched, with "the" in front of both nouns, but the sizes are not. The sun is the source of light, warmth and gravity, and the planet is something that depends on it. The poem never says who "you" is, whether a crush, a friend, a parent or anyone else, and that openness lets readers put their own person into the sun's place.
The key verbs pull against each other. "Orbiting" is constant movement, yet it never arrives anywhere, and "waiting" is stillness. Together they describe someone who is always busy and always stuck. The phrase "Year after year" does double duty. A year is literally one trip around the sun, so the speaker is counting laps as well as time. Then the final line jumps from countable years to "eternal", and the wait stops being something that could end.
The form supports this. There is no end rhyme and no punctuation at all, so the poem never reaches a full stop, which suits a feeling that goes round and round. The lines are short, running four, four, six, four and six syllables, and then the last line stretches to eight: "For this would be my eternal wish." It is as if the speaker finally lets out a longer breath. Sound plays a part too. "Orbiting around" is full of rounded *o* and *r* sounds that seem to circle on their own, and "wish" ends the poem on a soft, hushed *sh*. The pronouns also tell a story. "You" opens line one and closes line three, so the speaker keeps circling back to the other person. The word "my" appears only once, in the last line, and what the speaker owns is a wish, not the sun or any relationship.
That last line is worth slowing down for. "For this would be my eternal wish" uses "would" rather than "is", which makes the sentence hypothetical. Being noticed is not happening, and the speaker speaks of it only as something imagined. "For" also works as a quiet explanation, suggesting that everything before it, the orbiting and the waiting, is done for the sake of this one hope. The title repeats the phrase, so the poem ends where it began, in a loop of its own.
The image also carries an irony, though this is my reading and the poem doesn't say it outright. A planet shines only with borrowed sunlight, and the sun's gravity shapes its every path. The speaker may already be lit and held by the very person who doesn't look their way. Being unnoticed by someone who still defines your whole course is a particularly sharp kind of loneliness.
What makes the poem worth reading is its restraint. It takes a diagram almost everyone remembers from science lessons and turns it into an emotional situation, without a single complaint or dramatic gesture. The speaker's request is tiny, just to be noticed, but it is set against years and eternity. The sun never answers, and that silence is part of the poem's meaning. We are left with a small world turning in the light of something that doesn't turn to look at it.