This Week's Poem

4B

a girl takes a seat at

the edge of the world,

her legs hanging

off, swaying in the

nothing beneath her,

and she shivers,

but not because 

she is cold

there is no rain and

there is no sun and

there is no snow

only a stack of gently 

used books on the top

shelf, an artist's pencil, 4B,

and a daydream that

lies like a small child standing

next to a broken vase,

and stings like the hand

that reaches to pick up the pieces

a girl takes a seat at

the edge of the world, but

she rises once more,

unsure of what is to come, she

fears that which she

understands the least

but, then again, with the

whole world behind you,

what is left to lose?

xo,

SF

What I'm reading right now: Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury