Her dreams are like empty snail shells:
Pink and twisted hollow homes of those who had stomachs for feet.

Care to give up the safety blanket?
The Romance that is not arriving
And the fear that things are slipping past you?

Let go.
Nothing matters.
Because it all means so much.
And you'll never be able to hold it all.
So only carry a drop at a time.
That snail shell is too big.
Ask the jumping spider instead,
To lend a leg.

Dream lightly, loosely, and with many limbs,
And do not avoid a tangled web
Because that is where the dew gathers
A myriad of drops at a time.
They will evaporate before you can touch all of them.