What Am I

By
What Am I


What am I, you ask?
I am the stinger of a bumblebee; lodged precariously in a throbbing finger
I am the warm hand of a loved one clasped around the hand of another
I am the smooth metal of a lacrosse stick clutched in tightly clenched fists
I am the soft yellow fabric of a worn-out stuffed duck given far too much love
I am the homemade cookies made by grandmothers who use too much sugar but just enough love
I am the snap of a guitar string; broken for now like so many of us are; its just for now
I am the Christmas tree ornaments that adorn the tops of the tallest pine trees
I am the welcoming arms of a friend
I am the rich brown leather of a new purse
I am the blue papermate pen, scrawling the words of boundless imagination onto waiting white paper
I am the uninhibited spider that brushes against a freckled arm
I am the thin silver needle as it pierces the ears of an excited child
I am the purple pacifier; encased in hard plastic, waiting impatiently to be used
I am the concave plastic water bottle; it is half full, not half empty
I am the chalk sliding across a dull chalkboard; forming words of white
I am the soccer ball flying past the goalie and whoosh! Into the net
I am the wooden chopsticks between fingers; ends approaching a piece of sushi
I am the chewed end of a pencil; half the end bitten off from last-minute studying anxiety
I am fingers zooming across a keyboard; pattering energetically on and on into the night
I am the husky gray fur of a wolf; becoming matted and blackish in the rain
I am the dancing flame of a birthday candle
I am the grain of sand; lost helplessly in the ocean during high tide
I am the broken glass-paned window of a century-old haunted house
I am the wind blowing against the faces of bike riders as they pedal faster, faster, faster; disrupting dirt beneath their feet
I am the huge unappetizing pill swallowed with too little water; caught somewhere between a constricted windpipe and broken promises of getting better
I am the bird taking flight; soaring bravely through the air and above the high canopy of trees
I am the silky warm flow of tears trickling down the cheeks of a girl who had one heartbreak too many
I am the beautiful face of my beautiful older sister, stolen from me at too young an age
That is me
That is who I am
Who are you?





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