I was preparing
For an afternoon of
Sorting through old
Things in the loft
And listening to
Wonderful songs
On my record player
While my parents were
Away on a romantic weekend,
Before my birthday.
That's just the way things
Worked out.
A freak thunderstorm
Raged outside
And
Frightened my dog.
I was a little
Frightened too.
I like rain,
But thunderstorms are
Too out of control.
They are unpredictable and
Selfish,
Coming when they wish
Like a bad turn of mood.
They are the angry side
Of the weather.
My dalmatian,
Danny
(An early birthday present from
My parents)
Sat with me under the
Kitchen table,
While the record player was on
In the other room as loud
As possible to
Overcome the noise of the storm.
The door bell must have rung
Several times before I actually
Heard a banging at the door.
I left Danny whining under the table cloth
And cautiously answered the knocking.
You were standing there
With a small bouquet of colourful flowers.
You were soaking wet from head to toe.
Even the flowers
Were dripping.
You were smiling but then
Your smile fell slightly.
It must have been the
Shock on my face.
I wasn't prepared to meet you.
I had
Hardly any make-up on,
Old jeans
And a baggy jumper.
It was a Saturday afternoon,
A day before my birthday
And I just didn't know what to do.
I stared and gaped
For far too long.
Eventually, you said hi.
YOU ARE READING
Faded
Подростковая литератураBecause in the end, we are all irrelevant. Especially me. {A series of notes and letters written by a girl called Chloe McMullen, found in places you would least expect}