Watercolours smear across the sky,
Dreams painted in fleeting strokes,
Set alight by the smallest hope,
A spark carried in tiny hands.
Prayers whispered into the wind,
Words too soft, yet insistent,
Chasing after fugitive moments,
Seeking solace in the unknown.
The world presses, sharp and relentless,
Leaving scabs where innocence once lived.
But even in pain, the child persists,
Each wound a quiet rebellion.
We hold on, hearts stained with wonder,
Refusing to let the colours fade,
Resisting the weight of what we lose,
Forever painting light into the dark.