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Almost
November 2, 2016
She reeks of long-lost ambition. Her Misty brown eyes stare into the skies. She lived in her dreams, she breathed from her books. Meaningless now, just seems like a waste of space. But she was beautiful, once. She had a purpose. She was so driven, so innocent. I guess age does that to you. Pushes you to a point, where you're now too focused. Where you see every animated grain. And you realize how naive you are. And frivolous fun now seems juvenile. I can almost killed her laughter, lingering in the air.
Almost
© Amy F., Milford, CT
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More of a coming of age or realizations or of piece.