Away from the summer breeze, it is claustrophic in the narrow hallways.
Instead of the peace of the ocean, the sound of slamming lockers is harsh and brutal.
After waking midmorning in the luxury of cotton sheets all summer, the paper cuts are an annoying , stabbing reminder of where you are now.
Another year. So much the same, yet so much different.
There are still the Giggling Barbie Doll Girls who come with a Smart Phone Included.
There are still the Race Car Drivers in the Narrow NASCAR Lane leading to the building.
There are still the Paper Airplane Pilots taking off from All Corners of the Classroom.
There are still the Tyrannical Dictators storming through the barracks with their Army of Detention Slips.
Those characters are never leaving my story, no matter how big the eraser. Always imprints on the paper.
So, I turn the pencil around, the eraser to the speckled ceiling,
So that I can create a new character.
And out of the silver graphite markings comes:
Perhaps we are not bonded by blood lines,
But instead by the silver markings we create together,
As we write in each other’s stories-
Erasing the bad,
Rewriting the mistakes,
Turning to a new page.
She writes in silver ink on the lines of my journal,
Assuring me that she can never be erased from my story,
Unike so many graphite markings before.
Through the dim prospect of graded work and short tempers,
She is my silver lining in those looming clouds.
One of the few people uncontaminated by the filth of societal norms,
She is unique and unyielding in character;
Even with a novel of her own
With its own climaxes and downfalls,
She still has the will to present her story,
Alongside the tattered frame and worn pages of my own
To be analyzed, judged, rejected;
As I journey along as the protagonist of my tale
And move through the endless chapters,
There are times when I must stop
But she’s always one step ahead of me,
Already writing in silver ink the answers to my thoughts and questions
And painting a smile on my face
To match hers.
My Silver Sister.