Words from the Ashes

Steam rising from my Americano,

Someone compliments my grey denim backpack,

Stumbled upon Angel Wings in the garden—

Their leaves as soft as a lamb’s ear.

Smoke and mirrors has a deep burgundy underneath the muted leaves.

Digging in soft soil, in the sunlight.

Wearing fresh black velvet and dark skinny jeans,

Gazing out from behind cat eye shades.

This day is all mine—full of beauty I can hold.