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In January,

when the thrill of the holidays has not yet faded

and the snow still enchants with its glittering smile,

she flops into snowbanks and skids on her knees on the ice

of her backyard pond,

The talking. The low hum of the trout tank. A few quiet people, me included. The sounds of people being scolded for their behavior at school. The cracking as I crack my fingers. The clickity clacking of the keys on the keyboard. 

Every week, I look forward to Sundays with my mom. My mom is a beautiful woman. She never wears designer clothes but she wears leggings, T-shirts, and sweatpants. She smells like the Thank You Next perfume by Arianna Grande.

Write a story, poem, or create your own way to express what you want to be when you grow up. This could be written about what you want to have accomplished by the next four, ten, twenty, or even fifty years.

Hello, my friend.

How have you been.

It's nice to see your face- 

Or the forehead skin.

I don't understand

What could be so vital

That you never look up

At noon i knew it was not right

Once filled with hope and love and light

The blackened pavement of my street

Now has nothing to see in sight

Without toys it wasn’t complete