a stop for a gumdrop.

picking through the dirt and the rubble,

finding neither substance nor sustenance.

seeking life from clay and carbon,

finding the barrens giving up nothing,

fingerprints, decay.

 

who are you

bound to now?

the fingers tethered into tendrils, ivy.

 

who are you

going to walk through the world with?

toes locked into the sand and soot.

 

who are you

going to let read you story?

ocean spray whispering your trials and peril.

 

there’s always a speck.

a spark.

sometimes overlooked.

but it’s there.

 

still, there’s a glimmer.

a drop of dew,

reflecting light,

off a single bud of life.

 

just look a little harder.

i think you’ll find it.