When I was a little girl, I dreamed of soaring skies,
Kind and gentle wind lifting me above the world.
A weightless feather with no concern.
All that was bad became good,
And that goodness became me.
Forgiven of childhood miscarriages
All that was left were the memories of what was.
If I was honest with the world,
Whispered prayers would be answered.
Hate and ridicule hushed in the dark,
Their voices silenced with regret.
I stared in the mirror and wondered,
When would the image looking back,
Become a butterfly, forever free.
When I was a little girl,
I dreamed of soaring skies,
Comfortable in a magical world,
Where I was somebody and the me I wanted to be.
Eulonda Writes 