piles of soft, clean laundry
ghost of a child perched
on a whirring white washing machine
flower petals on the walls
tossed away, falling
pink silk
scent of lavender
as I trace the moon
against the windowpane
outside
wind strokes my hair
red leaf flutters to the ground
I stare at a dusty photograph, wondering
when I was ever this innocent?
silver mornings come and go
ghost of a child perched
on a whirring white washing machine
flower petals on the walls
tossed away, falling
pink silk
scent of lavender
as I trace the moon
against the windowpane
outside
wind strokes my hair
red leaf flutters to the ground
I stare at a dusty photograph, wondering
when I was ever this innocent?
silver mornings come and go
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
mkgirl395
Yoyo96
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