There is a thing called the in-between.
It seeps into crevices;
canvassing the heart into colour.
Too small to be recognised by all;
but those who seek it;
develop an awareness;
of its internal framework.
Malleable and hybrid;
simply sailing between the real;
waiting to be invited.
Below the surface of the mind;
it calms the stormy seas;
resuscitating the imagination.

The sky smiles.
Stars flow down.
A full moon.
An abundant harvest of hope.
She’s in a world between.
A spoon of real stirred with a
rainbow dream.