hope

Bound

not cold, not quite warm
pushing through the night
pressing on to you
Spring waiting

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She gets out the letters. Her paper dreams. Delicately unwraps the foolscap paper, each fold creased in time. Her story weaved with ink and hope. She draws deep, inhales her youth.

She fingers through the letters, her aged digits stumble. She is getting tired. This body is spent. Finally she finds the one she is looking for. The letter she has read a thousand time. The day she remembers best.

Siting back she closes her eyes. Letter tight in her hand. She goes to sleep to dream of paper dreams.

Entrapped

Bubbles floated by Emily, drifting up into the sky, heading on an adventure. Emily was sat by the river, paddling her feet in the cool waters; the bubbles had simply appeared visions of wonderment to enrapture the heart. Emily stood, followed the bubbles along the riverbank, chasing them as they swirled in the breeze, dancing in the sunlight. Time froze for a moment; rainbows glimmered in slow motion, spinning colours, without a care. Emily reached out to touch the bubble, to feel the magic. Her fingertips graced the sphere and she was gone, inside the bubble, entrapped in enchantment.