Routine | Teen Ink


October 19, 2011
By Metaphor SILVER, Falls Church, Virginia
Metaphor SILVER, Falls Church, Virginia
5 articles 2 photos 20 comments

Favorite Quote:
The beauty of grace is that it make life not fair.

Like a burst of watery light, the droplet hit the cold of my iris
Slight breezes and
Again, the blurred explosion

A feeling of helplessness swept over me as I walked to my car
This had never happened before
The lashes were my most dependable defense
Shattered by a weak, insignificant bit of mist

Sometimes the little nothings explain everything
Sometimes they put it in perspective

Sweeping around was the wind
Slithering into my hair and separating it from my head
As the yellow strands flew in front of my washed eyes
I found the handle to my door

I cautiously pulled the curved piece of metal
The portal opened to an isolated cabin
I stood, staring down at the cushy seat
It was at an obtuse angle, beckoning me to retreat into its curve

A first formed from the fingers on my right hand
The second they curled something snapped in the skies
I felt the pounding rain in my muscles

I turned to see if anyone looked
There stood no person, only an open park
Slippery green blades rose from the earth where my feet where touching

A promise in the middle of the field
A round plot of dirt

Eventually the water died along with my racing heart
When I reached the blue car again, I turned
A brown angel was imprinted there
As if it was snow

To me, it was.

The author's comments:
I walked out of the library and a thin rain began to fall.

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