Hope

Hope I think there is s a town in Mississippi where hope lives, a place were clouds look like purple cotton candy in a bright blue sky. Where the best of the best parade down main street every Saturday. Imaginations run unabandoned like, preschoolers questioning everything and encouraged to be loud. Sister reality, rigid and uptight, lines gardens and doorways in white picket fences. Daisies in rainbow colors painted on the front. Even her proper lenses do not damper our view of time. But Hope, this town in Texas or Mississippi or Milwaukee seems untrue. Bigger than a giant and louder than the drum beats of my heart when i realized I was in love with life. Hope, huh, a question on cloudy days, a command on mornings too difficult to get out of bed, an exclamation point chasing me away from my painful past urging me to break free. a statement filled with a destination on days when I run, walk, swim and dream for the directional compass of my life, and hoping batteries are not needed.