She prepares for sleep in the usual routine,
Teeth to be cleaned - hair to be brushed - face to be washed.
Dreamily wondering what lies in wait for her,
The images that will
Wake her.
Shake her.
Haunt her.
Or, maybe yet, her dreams will take her
to new places and spaces.
She wonders if she dares to dream of a dream so free?
She wonders if these dreams could ever be?
She brings the soft towel to her face,
gently patting the water away.
She gazes upon herself in the mirror,
fresh and clean.
Deciding only that her dreams will be as they may,
Without lucidity, aniticpation or remorse.
They will be, as they were meant to be.
Yet, somehow, in that mirrored image,
Hope continues to find a place,
Warmed gently within her breast.
S.
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