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.