Treasures.

Photo by Annie Spratt

So treasures in life
Come in small forms,
Using small steps.
They swim into my hands
In the form of a bird
with a colorful courageous head,
In the form of the reflection
of a tree sunk in the water,
In the form of the sand
left by little feet on my floor.

Every year I use my birthday as an excuse
To write.
The sky is bright,
The air is thin
Within my lungs,
That breathe, and scream, and
Live.

Little treasures fill them.
They are invisible,
Yet everywhere.
They get lost
And found.
These little treasures
Are like stars
That blink in the darkest dawn.
When life feels ordinary
They make it shine
With
The rainbow of colors —
Coral, amber, maple,
Sage, peach,
Ruby, plum.
And every time I crave for perfection
I remind myself —
In between my thoughts,
My fears, my chaos,
My hopes,
My dreams
There is space.
And when I am that space,
All the treasures come to me,
In the form of

Perfection.