It starts with teddy bear dreams that never occur
when the pain won’t stop; it’s a constant stranger
gripping her chest, tightening the breath amongst
brittle arches of birch trees as she grasps some
comfort to inhale, not exiting the now.
It’s the ball tossed and never caught as ants
scatter pride in their march, layering tomorrow’s seeds
when day comes for new growth.
It’s balloons in the sky weeping pride with only a pyramid
in sight leaving screams in resistance, turning the air,
too chilled for her day.
She lays on the grass in a blue dress, twisting and twining
points in a dance she knows well.