Untitled poem

Her wings slowly open, they appear crinkled and in need of repair,
A voice silently whispers, “My beauty, please do not despair”.
“Hope is still here, for my arms hold you everyday”,
“In your sleep I help you travel, through that lonely and broken highway”.
“I am straightening out your wings, removing all those kinks and cracks”,
“One day sweet girl you will fly again, with nothing blocking your path”.
As Hope speaks to me, I realize she is right,
My wings will begin to heal, and my future will be bright.

Shannon Anderson