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Like a touch of velvet, she walks alone

and waits silently by the phone.

Her mother brings her hands to pray.

her father didnt come home today.

Inside of her, she feels so much,
so much, that it’s almost unbearable,
but to everyone else it can only be heard half as loud.

She feels so lost in the crowd,

and in the silence, there is a voice,

and in each moment there is a choice;

that voice never goes away, sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s soft.

It's always there...it's her pulse...it keep her..going.

But often times she ignores it, she keeps it inside,

instead of letting others feel the effects of it.

She walks through her memories,

portraits of who she used to be,

the playground where she scraped her knee,

surrounded all at once by her innocence, she sighs.

She is reminded, of that feeling she had,

that feeling of freedom, of being her, of being herself,

where nothing could touch her,

 or so it seemed...she is reminded of that part of her that is still within,

it's still there, it hasn't gone away.

She feels it every single day,

except sometimes that pulse is so faint even on the inside,

but it's still there. As she remembers her feeling of freedom,

the pulse is stronger and stronger.

Oh, how she longs to let others feel it too.

The world around her has changed,

her friends goals have rearranged,

 the twenty somethings hide the child inside,

 but the laughter will never die

While reality hits, while it is hard,

she holds on to something much more powerful than hurt,

than the mess of the world, than the thoughts that tend to consume her..

it is the hope that keeps her alive, that keeps her pulse going,

that keeps the laughter alive, that keeps the smiles coming.

KW and NA