As they passed,
jeering,
taunting,
she looked down at her shoes:
sneakers.
As they laughed,
giggling,
snorting,
she looked down at her shoes:
sneakers.
Maybe
if she curled up
into a tiny, tiny ball,
she would be invisible.
But she didn’t.
She looked down at
her sneakers.
Maybe
if she pretended
she was part of the wall
and only her grey,
glittering eyes stood out
they would not see her.
But she couldn’t.
She looked down.
Sneakers.
YOU ARE READING
Butterfly Ripples
PoetryButterfly ripples through water and wind fluttering petals, whispering wings. Words swing 'round trees carried in a breeze of butterfly ripples so do as you please. But don't taunt their song of water and wind: to it they belong and so they will sin...
