this is what you do.
you go to sleep.
you wash your face to clear the traces of tears.
you brush your teeth to remove the taste of bitter words
spoken out of hunger.
(the answers were never served, there were only empty questions)
you crawl into bed with your favourite book,
the one that has the happy ending you never think will ever happen,
the one that seemed so impossible,
because impossible is what you feel now.
your spirit is frayed.
it has been a very long day.
this is what you do.
you go to sleep.
you walk the words in the book.
you find the magic.
you do the kingdom a favour.
you ask for a boon.
when you wake up
the sunshine will be a certain shade of gold,
and there will be a gift waiting,
somewhere, somehow,
where and when you least expect it,
for that is how it works
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