I pluck the petals of sun-drenched buttercups

Playing a game of “he loves me, he loves me not”

Secretly hoping that he does just for today

I blow on wispy dandelion heads

Cradled in my palm like fragile strands of milkweed encased in knobby green pods

I spot ripe, red raspberries and pop them into my mouth

Tickling my tastebuds and staining my lips with a juicy palette of sweetness

And find hope in ways I can’t explain.