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i am beautiful, i think
i am beautiful
i think
i drive to my sister's house
i tell her my dream
i shyly couch it as a night dream
i don't say it is my heart
i share with her my heart
i have revealed myself to others before
i know rejection
i know ridicule
i know she is my sister
i know i am safe
she clips coupons while i talk
she interrupts
she tells me jokes her husband told her
she wonders if he loves her
she asks for help with the crossword puzzle
she laughs
she tells me petty things until
i forget that i am beautiful
i leave her and the used tea bags
i leave with my dream tucked under my heart
i bring it out slowly at a stop sign
i dream my dream on the way home
i remember
i remember that i can dream
i remember that i am beautiful
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It's the quiet little people who make all the difference.
Well, okay. The big noisy people, too.
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