She is a tree branch in the night
hanging with the stars
afraid to become fluorescent.
She cowers
against her trunk
but she is no coward;
every moment
her reach extends
and what she finds, past the centimeter of despair
is simply
beauty.
She grows on, steady.
Beauty, more.
And now she is glowing,
black against blue,
light had changed color.
And she is.
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