My poems hide in my morning cup of coffee.
In good hair days.
In nights without homework.
In the little victories of life.

My poems hide in board games while camping.

My poems hide in falling of a horse, but getting back on.

My poems hide in crazy and untraditional habits.
In rearranging and organizing my bedroom.
In summer trips to the emergency room.
In the dents, bruises, and scars that I seem to collect.

My poems hide in compliments from strangers.

My poems hide in the eyes of animals who have grown up alongside of me.

My poems hide in moments spent with my best friends.
In sleepovers in the motorhome outside my house.
In Tulip Time parades twirling my baton.

My poems hide in the embrace of a long-distance friend.

My poems hide in my parents, and in the times they are proud of me.

My poems hide in the memories I’ve made.
In mission trips where 9-Square and hacky-sack are the main pastimes.
In seashell hunting on a clean, white beach.
In being a queen in the eighth grade show.

My poems hide in the trips that I take.
In the adventures I have in ordinary settings.
In the twenty four hour ride to Florida.
In the states I have yet to visit.

My poems hide in my relationship with God.

My poems hide in all the beautiful, trivial things around me.

My poems are constantly hiding, waiting, begging to be discovered.