Scrolling Through Pictures On My Phone

Oil pastels melting in the summer heat,

she draws flowers growing on Saturn, and

writes “grow where you are planted”,

 

the sun sets over a city and an old man

with a camera becomes a quick friend,

his hands adorned with wrinkled memories

that transcend her time,

 

A sign on a wall in an art gallery reads

“it’s going to be o.k.” but who are they

and how do they know?

 

she is standing in a forest, dresses in

earthy tones like the trees, runs her fingers

through the crevices in the bark and feels grateful.

 

her sister makes a crown from flowers

in their yard, how she had the patience to be

creative, how she held up a peace sign with pride.

 

there is a patch of tiny red flowers

east of the brook on the orange trail, a home

for bees and a sight to see.

someone painted “love yaself” on the

footbridge, she loves herself, and the world

for all the things they have in common.

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