You
Are a
Mess

You
Are
Enough

As
You
Are
her curiosity had her
daydreaming in the forest.
Avocado leaves tremble briskly
singing its season's chorus.

she listened to the sounds
of squirrels swarming
jumping from tree to tree
like they were performing.

chirp, chirp goes the birds
growing its iridescent feathers.
Animals assembling together food
for the crisp, chilly weather.

she daydreamed
as she studied the mantis green
stems tickling against her sweater
fostering a picturesque scene.
All the trials she has faced,
every obstacle in her way
can never compare to the grace
*** has flowered in her day.

She lived many days frowning
but now she can rejoice.
No more crying or drowning.
Just a sweet song in her voice.

She gave Him her everything
which strengthened her to grow.
She found her everlasting King
and she will never let go.
What a wonderful world
we all get to see.
Traveling and living
all so free.

Breathing fresh air
and the sun shining down.
Pearly white clouds in the sky
and bright green grass on the ground.

Experiencing life, love, laughter,
and all of this gift has to give.
We should all be grateful
we have had a chance to live.
Her pink dress matched
with her pink, satin shoes.
She was so excited.
All was brand new.

She twirled around
in her little, pink dress.
She loved to twirl.
It was always the best.

She wore it to school and church
and even for a few birthdays.
She dressed it up and down
in all different ways.

She one day outgrew that dress
which made her sad,
but that dress lasted
and she was glad.

Later on in her life
she was truly blessed
with a precious, little girl
who she put in a little, pink dress.
She has hope
even when seemed lost.
She wanted to be happy
no matter the cost.

Her thoughts were dark
even in the brightest of times.
She tried to look and feel okay,
but her heart just couldn't shine.

She still has hope
but she will find it in her own way.
She doesn't have to find just anything
to brighten up her day.
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
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