Poetess Library

Rose dipped in honey, sweet blessings and great desire.
Happiness comes in wide packets filled with sweet beginnings and optimisms’ fire.
Hope is a butterfly, waited to be catched with nets and jars
And released back into the wild yet again for another person to seize.
No more requiems and sorrowful soliloquies can pass with hope
And brand new beginnings. Each churn of anxiety can hopefully not yet conspire.

Soft lullabies reach tired and deteriorated minds, carried on the wings of nightingales,
Flowing from their flat beaks and large dark eyes.
Carrying the song the moon so sings with beautiful dulcet sound.
Exuberant words fall of tongues and sweet, harmonious melodies drip from there
Mouths like honey drips from comb.
Anxiety is still, yet waiting, but for now as the optimism rise with the moon and the tide,
People can take a break from their cracked minds and enjoy the day as if the summer
Came through from the winter years that have passed.

The wind whispers of great treasures and of reassuring auspicious views.
The whispers of promise, it whispers the faint noise of what the sun speaks to us while looking
down below.
It whispers, “If you look for the light, it here shall come. Find it for yourself and for nobody
else.”
And the nightingales carry the melodies that the moon can not share on a stage. The wind
whispers to the sun what the sun can not share from its far height, and the butterfly carries the
hope that we can not find.
Soon enough we can find the optimism, hope, and every bit of happiness all on our own.