Amalie@kua

She pressed the cherry into my hand,

Smiling, it didn’t mush,

Didn’t leak red juice all over my summer-calloused palm

Like fake blood, too bright to be the real thing.

In the cocoon's embrace, hope takes flight on fragile wings, Like a brushstroke of color, the butterfly dances in the wind. 

They flutter through fields, spreading hope with every gentle breeze. 

There is a world,

it’s time to remember it.

We aren’t the only ones 

inhabiting this planet. 

As we frack

the world cracks,

mother nature she is called – mother earth

yet what kind of mother is she?

letting her children hurt themselves and their brothers

letting them kill each other for entertainment, for "food"

I remember you, now

Though I don’t see you anymore.

Memory is the only choice.

The time on Easter when you ate one of the eggs us children ran searching to find

It's a thin, fragile book

you would keep in a desk

the cover is elegant

and the pages, a mess

In black and red ink