Pieces

August 26, 2009
By KaylaAnne GOLD, North Platte, Nebraska
KaylaAnne GOLD, North Platte, Nebraska
16 articles 0 photos 42 comments

A green meadow under a rising sun.
I try to speak, but run.
A god he must be.
Perhaps he will choose me.

A mud pile under a black mane.
Grotesque but not vain.
I wonder, is she sane?

Chocolate pools under a night sky.
I try to speak, but come up shy.
A goddess she must be.
Perhaps she will choose me.

The author's comments:
It is about a girl who falls for a boy and he is beautiful and she is too, but does not see what he see when she looks in the mirror.

The first column is from the girl's point of view, the second is from another outside person who can tell that she loves him and is very envious. The third column is from the boys view when he looks at the girl who loves him. The fourth column is from another outside, a boy this time, who loves the girl but can tell she loves the beautiful boy.

When I wrote the first line I was describing what the man looked like. Green eyes and blond hair with a red tint to it. Like a rising sun I always thought.

When I wrote, a mud pile under a black mane I meant brown eyes and black, wild hair.

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