February 8, 2012
The fog on the window shows only the faint outline of her hand,
Pressed against the glass,
The willow leaves flutter in the wind, falling down,
I wonder why the tears are coming, I ask her.
I catch a couple words,
Her dad came home dog-less that day, she didn’t want to believe it
A chunk of her hair is missing in the back,
Her brother has that I’m-so-cute-
In-my’s-sister’s-hair look,
That with his sticky hands,
It’s not hard to find the culprit
She is a store, bargaining for him back,
A lone tree in a field,
Leaves shed on the ground,
The tree looks like a thousand hugs couldn’t cheer it up
The sun rose up,
Shedding light on the dark knowledge breaking through the clouds
The book closes, the reader okay with the subject
The tide comes in;
The girl looks out across the water, thinking, “There’s a new day.”

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