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Mentor Text
October 1, 2018
A glimmer of a dusty book,
Forgotten by the faces put to rest,
Sits on a shelf-
Waiting, to be caressed.
Abandoned for years,
The layers of dust to show,The grey, cloudy smell,
Proving, it’s an all time low.
Pictorial patterns, fetus faces,
Where did it all go?
The background inside
Now,
Covered in snow.
Splotches of smiles,
Reflected by the somber sunrise
Displaying the array,
Of the souls that used to say ‘hey’
Shiny shellac, latches onto my fingers
As I graze the memories,
That still somehow lingers.
© Dannika S., Phoenix, AZ
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I had written this piece about a picture book filled with my early childhood memories. I recently had found it, consumed with dust and smelling like mildew, and went through it. I started writing about all the pople who used to be in my life, but are now long gone.