Processing

veronica

I'm walking down the street for the first time (for the 400th time)

The ivy scaffolds a wall and encompasses the path (there was barely any before)

I hear the children on the playground, screaming (their squeals of glee, just like yours)

Apartments show signs of damage, history it's front facade (these were new once, beautiful and bright)

Footsteps echo, climbing up the staircase as it smacks the granite floors (I swept here, made sure it was clear)

The door opens, furniture cluttered into a new world (I hope you like it, it isn't much)

Arms envelop and flurries of dyed purple hair wisp up (we dyed it this weekend, before you came)

Somehow this foreign land feels like home (welcome princessa, you're home)