M. Hank

Pandora's box held Despair 
it held the fated end,

humanity held in a snare
of their own offends

but after the release, 

in the box remained
a single little spirit

What happened to my childhood?

Where did it all go?

I swear it was right there...

All my self-confidence, my imagination, my courage, my creativity...

But it all just disappeared...

Catching fireflies

In my palms

Catching snowflakes

On my tongue

Throwing wishes

To the sky

On the wings

Of dandelions

Dreaming

With my head

In the clouds

Begging to stay

I dream about you still,  
do you dream of me? 

It is no grand affair, these dreams 
not of your smile, your hands, your kindness 

your cruelty 

The paragraphs you send me are long, 

certain, 

and completely free; 

they take flight around my mind like gentle songbirds, 

I remember when I fell in love with eagles and oak trees, 
with green grass, warm summers, and fireworks. 

I fell in love with what now is brushwood for a fire 
that red white and blue decided to ignite.