My Mother This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   White polished shoes

A crisp white uniform that was clean this morning

She gives me her tired smile

And it's cold and lonely as an empty closet.



As I lay in bed,

I can hear her making tea in the kitchen

I get up for a drink

And I see her sitting at the table,

Looking down into her cracked cup.



I slip back into bed

Because I don't want her to see me.

Later, when she thinks I'm sleeping,

She fixes my blankets,

And gives me a kiss on my head.

Like a fiery spark,

From a flint.


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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