All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Words
September 29, 2011
Oh, how they call to me,
Those glorious ink blots,
Those sly little beasts,
Butterflies.
Warbling like wistful bluejays,
Or like the creamy ivory moon,
Cloaked in the black velvet cloth of the heavens.
They flow,
Bubbling and laughing like a creek,
The aging willow sending ripples,
Across the glass mirror.
My reflection I see,
The honest doe’s eyes,
Slightly parted lips,
I reach out,
And our fingers almost touch.
A disturbance.
She’s gone.
Nothing but words.
© Haley L., Anchorage, AK
Similar Articles
Previous Next
