ThisIsMyLetterToTheWorld

How peaceful it is to glide around unannounced on flat pieces of plastic they call skis. Why plastic gives you a placid feeling inside is unknown.

Is to be breath-taken upon your last breath,

Is to still recall the joy

of lying on your back, laughing, 

in the meadow.

December 21,

The rebirth of the winter,

The certainty that when you wake up

Nothing has changed except for

The season. 

And maybe,

Some snow has found your doorstep.

Except,

I'm always in between,

In people's minds.

Too smart for everyone,

except the people I'm not smart enough for

To girly,

just because I'm a girl,