covering them like a secret.
Later she watered them, feeling hopeful.
She watched over them each day, still hoping.
When she thought she could wait no more,
tiny shoots pushed from the dirt,
new and bright green like obvious metaphors.
They grew, reaching toward the sun
until they flowered.
She praised them, and rejoiced.
She did her best to keep them from drying out,
or choked by weeds.
She hoped no pests could destroy them,
and she watched for signs of disease.
They grew tall and full of color, the brightest red,
and richest purple she had ever seen.
She celebrated like a pep band trumpet,
And when they began to wither, and brown,
scattering their leaves in the wind,
the knowledge sank in that she could do nothing more
but wait, and wish for their return.
That's all she could do.
Colleen Wells writes from Bloomington, Indiana, and is a past contributor to The Voices Project. She is a writer, activist, mother, and crafter. She works as a Life Enrichment Associate with the elderly population. Her work has appeared most recently in The Gyroscope Review, The Ryder Magazine, and Workzine. She values poetry because she finds freedom in it as well as structure. Wells believes writing has the power to heal both self, and to assist others in their own healing journeys through providing a platform to share traumatic events and subsequent growth with one another.
She is the author of Dinner With Doppelgangers - A True Story of Madness and Recovery. Wells earned her MFA in Creative Nonfiction from Spalding University. She frequently writes essays and enjoys journalism as well. To borrow a cliche, Wells believes writing about the truth is often stranger than writing fiction.