divided
a part of me clings to
reality
that life crushes
with bills, jobs
expectations
loneliness
routine
why marvel in the little things when
weightier matters press?
but a larger part still innocently
hopes
for spontaneity in the everyday
because living is about
seizing
even small opportunities
it’s waking
with anticipation
it’s splashing in mud puddles
and choosing to believe the best
about my boss
it’s an eager
waiting
and loving even when it
hurts
