She could be flower in every nightmare. Blossom in dark.
She speaks to me fondly of passions and talents, guitar and stars, ice cream and rainbow, dancing and beaches, past and miracle. Then stop short to apologies for speaking at all. She could be like that.
She could sit alone in every crowded place. Shadows behind the lights.
All because somewhere in her life, someone-blindfolded that she loved broke her heart again, ignore her letter and pure bliss on her wet eyes. And telling her to “shut up”, keep “it down”, “nobody cares”. She could be like that.
Someone once said; “People aren’t born sad. Happy? Yes, she could be.”
And suddenly she’s start one bravely steps, start singing to the stars with her rainbow ice cream, and dancing at the beach. She barely knows, that its time to start again and holds to miracle of beginnings.
She could be anywhere.