Through the Looking Glass

I dream,
I am a woman with grace.
Perhaps a dancer,
my lithe body flows
making it's own sweet music.

I dream,
I am a flower
In a garden of grand colors.
Worthy of a painter's brush
My petals move gently with the wind.

Alas, I am real.
My touch, often clumsy
I can't reach my goal.
but I will try until I possess it,
God smiles at courage so bold.



By Kathie Stehr  12/5/98