You Can Write

In the rolling hills just beyond their backyard, brother and sister wandered daily into the woods. They knew every bend of the stream, each leaning tree, and the way the light sifted like powdered gold through the leaves at noon.

Their parents called it “playing outside.”

But to them, it was their world.

One afternoon, the air felt different, lighter more free. They followed the stream farther than they ever had, past the thorned briars and the hollow log where the fox sometimes slept.

Then, as if the woods parted just for them, they stepped into an iridescence bubble between trees and an old school desk appeared against a tree. Inviting them in as if they were new students to this enchanted forrest.

The grass was impossibly green, glowing like emeralds kissed by sun. Tiny orbs floated above it as soft as bubbles, radiant as rainbows. A waterfall spilled gently…

Sadness creeps in during my lonely nights. The pain is too much to bear. The closed doors And cut cords Bring darkness

Into my life.

Broken hearts Play tenderly tonight.

Swinging hope

Into tomorrow's

daylight.

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