i met an old woman in my dream, who stroked my hand gently,
and brushed my hair like it was her own.
her face wrinkled, mouth into a smile more beautiful than i had ever seen.
i could not help but imagine how gorgeous she must have been in her earlier years,
perhaps decades ago,
in a rocking chair on a porch overlooking an ocean of clouds and future memories.
when i finally got up to thank her, she did the same too,
and i saw these feathers fall off her dress and fly into the sky like birds,
and suddenly trees were growing faster and faster and her nails grew longer,
long enough for her to dig them into my arm, twist it all the way around until we both heard a crack.
i wanted to wipe my eyes of tears but i just stood still,
eventually aware of my surroundings, my feet on this solid ground, my lungs filling and emptying of air,
and then she tip-toe-whispered in my ear like a gust of september breeze,
"pretty girl, if you don't bend, you will break."
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