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The Little Cycle This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   When my smooth hand covers your twisted bones,

I remember when I was the little girl.

It was I then, who perched on the stairs to stretch

As tall as you,

But now it is I who stoops to embrace your crooked frame.

It was you then, who brought me orange juice and

Golden Grahams,

But now it is I who brings you a glass of milk.

It was you then who stood by your cutting board and

Taught me how to make meatballs,

But now it is I who makes the salad and

It is you who sits and blankly stares.

It was you then who watched cartoons for me,

But now it is I who watches Jeopardy for you.

It was I then who was the little girl,

But now it is you.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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