Jessica Hopkins, Brownsboro

Dear Younger Me

I write this to the younger me, the me I hated most of all, and with these words, I hope you’ll see that even angels fall. With these vows, I solemnly swear in sickness or in health, when life refuses to play fair, when pennies make up your wealth, to be a kinder, better me, and treat you with respect, to not be your worst enemy when you fail to be perfect. Dear me, I write to tell you now that this is not your final bow.

-Jessica Hopkins, Brownsboro

A Passing Thought

Summer lily t’was I, Vibrant, full of seed,

With skin of an apple tugged freshly from the tree.

A passing mote of pollen caught beneath my wings, future hope yet unfulfilled of the promise that it brings.

From my pistil, joy sprung forth. Mirror image mirrored, looking back at me

gazing skyward phenomenally, indeed.

Stars that shone above did not fade away. The earth nonplussed continues in its cycle.