Who knows what miraculous thing
has been hiding away all winter.
What grows quietly beneath the surface,
just waiting.
Maybe, when the sun starts to come out,
something grand will unfurl its petals

There is something hidden away inside me,
something strong and confident,
some tiny seed, just biding its time.
Something much deeper than all the doubt,
and the fear,
and the silence.
Something more than the worries,

A grid of pixilated faces sit in front of me,
listening as I read out of a book.
I try my best to talk,
but they can't hear what I say
until I am actually done talking. 
We are moving at different speeds.