OverTheRainbow

And so there were three.

Three thoughts concerning snowflakes. 

“I promise this time!” Louisa cried as she watched the man across from her, desperation clogging up her throat. Eric’s shoulders sagged, as if the weight of choosing his next sentence might crush him.

There is a road that winds endlessly on and on; it does not stop, yet in some places it becomes hard to follow.

She imagines the universe, 

the world suspended in midair.

Before, nothing except possibility even existed. 

The Milky Way, Earth, evolution–shimmer and dematerialize. 

If you wrap your hand around your mother's wrist 

your fingers will touch. How 

do you come to terms with that? How 

do you learn that your father's shoulders 

This poem is not Chat GPT
I promise to convince you that
and I will attempt to convey
the human
sitting and picking the words
from cobweb corners where
computers can't find them.
there is a beating heart here