Carries them in his small chubby hands
Places them in my palms
And gasps as he watches me blow them away.
Frantically, he gathers and carries,
Watching for a chance
To use what he holds.
Today I saw him
Find a chip in the paint of a wounded wall
He pressed the petals to it with expectation
And I saw a world where
We carry hope
And press it into the cracks of damaged hearts
Until all we see
Is a home
Made of blooming life
