Tiffany Blue eyes staring into the blank distance
Seeing nothing, but wanting to know everything
Heavy lungs breathing in the polluted air, fear, and selfishness
Breathing out hope, dreams, and love for nature, writing, and April days
Sore legs walking on broken streets, broken dreams, and pieces of paper that have been scattered around like a puzzle
Every piece bringing you closer to the big picture
Dry hands – one of them picking up a cup of strong coffee
The other hand leading the pen through the jungle or words, thoughts, and feelings
Raspberry red lips leaving a mark on the mug, tasting the bitterness of the coffee
Speaking sweet words of hope
The kind of hope you feel on a breezy April morning
