Hope

Standard

There’s detail in her swing
And power in her sting
Or maybe its the other way ’round.
Just a few feet off the ground
she hovers,
covers her smiling mouth,
eyes firmly looking south
-ward. A dainty finger
points out the drop that lingers
long after the waterfall
has ceased fall(ing)

There’s something in the way she turns,
slicing the sunrays like a spurn
-ed lover,
only to spill them all
over the place.
Laughing, she lets them race
in a sparkling whirl,
till she has seen the last petal unfurl

And then, she just stands
in an obscure corner, wand
steady,
always ready,
knowing that when it starts to rain
she’ll be needed yet again

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