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The Price of Age This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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my bare feet scoot across the
rough floors, shuffling layers of dirt
and grime.
my toe bumps a piece of glass,
pale blue and crooked at the edges.
i bend to pick it up, hoping it is that chunk of
sea glass you bought me.
do you remember?
probably not.
you don’t remember much these days.

no no, it’s not that you don’t remember,
more that you choose to look at
our history through scratched glasses, perched
precariously on a broken nose.

i see you polishing your glasses sometimes,
and i wonder,
why don’t you buff the scratches off, or
just buy a new pair?

but then you put them back over your
ears and stare down at me,
pretending you can’t remember
those painted summer days, etched
to fit the nostalgic memories of
our youth.

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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BearosityThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Feb. 25 at 4:40 pm:
Very, very thoughtful. I love the symbolism, here.
 
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