Maybe she played her music too loud, and maybe she was speechless in person but had so many things to say in her mind. Maybe she was destine to write, maybe she was destine to try it at the least. She had a way with words and let them take her over.
At fifteen there was so much to learn, only a sophomore in high school she knew she was still learning and only beginning to understand. Yet, she could have lived a hundred lives by fifteen. She smiled everytime she thought about it, everyone told her she was had an ageless personality. Nobody who knew her grew tired of her.
She turned on her lamp in the previously dark room and sat down to write. Her wavy blonde hair shone slightly against her white t shirt. She put on her glasses and closed her eyes awaiting the next vision of someone else's life to capture in writing.
December 3rd, 2016
YOU ARE READING
Truce
PoetryTwo roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood -Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
