Shoes float across the cedar floors,
the shimmery glass calls to her –
a snowy peak hidden in the distance.
Her eyes swallow clouds, and she
bathes in circles of soft golden light.
“Reflect,” they say.
“Goals,” they say.
And blue ink bleeds across the page,
disbelief at this moment, gifted –
designed to allow her to
p a u s e.
“Celebrate,” they say,
and her words come out pink,
as she relearns to love
what she does.