in a small cafe I noticed
her eyes flutter like butterflies
when conversation turned
to her hopes & dreams.
As I listened to them
awareness of sincerity unfolded.
She spoke about ghosts
wanting to rehome them
so her dreams could develop
in hues other than invisible.
She confessed to having baggage
left by others along the way
said she feels broken
but must find a way.
I politely nodded, then replied
it’s never to late to chase
rainbows across fields
Ride a unicorn to the stars
so be brave, give it your best
broken only applies after death
brainwashed was only a test
so hear those butterflies fluttering about
conquer your fears of doubt.

4 Comments on “Hope

burn baby burn

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