Last night I wept
Soaking my pillow
But in the morn I lept
Plucking the little flower
From my tear-full pillow
Who, like a sponge, had gathered in
All the anguish and sorrow
Anf from it, grew in it's
Fertile bed of ideas
Hope, that vibrant flower
Of which grew from my pillow
Of who's tender petals, soft n'suede
Of colors from idyllic fantasy
But the roots, firm and strong
Unrelenting, fierce and long
I crushed the delicate flower
And place it in a cup
I felt the juices flow, warmly
Through my veins, 'softening
It assuaged my tired mind
And cleaned my salty cheeks
Infusing my eyes with luster
Determined and optimistic
Springing lightly, an 'lept
