The white girl sings with an open eye.
The black girl sings with a rounded mouth.
A gel of sunshine,
The bud finally opens.
Only teardrops form into butterflies
While the world prepares to change.
Mothers turn down
Love waits in the wind.
And the dove flies away without our permission.
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Sometimes I hear a word or phrase, see an image somewhere in a video or painting, or hear a story on the news. Then I get inspired to put down on paper what I see in my mind. I don't explain too much; that takes away from the reader. My goal is to use my humble little poems to elicit feelings, whatever they may be. I live with my husband, three sons, and daughter-in-law in northern Virginia.