Yellow Sweater

"I am your new tutor, Alexandria---

"Like the ancient library!"

There is a sadness that is soft.
Sometime, I go looking for it. 

I go and watch the wind. 
I go where I can see my tiniest hairs
as they brush my face.

Oblivious and dancing. 
 

I wore glasses. Big round ones. And when they rested on my nose, my eyes were wide. The wind brushed my hair, touching my lips. It brought with it the smell of fresh rain and forgotten dust. 

After a long day of harvesting, my mother would take me out to watch the stars. We would lay in the tall brown grass, our sweaty bodies covered in dust, and look up. She told me each star had a story.

My shoes arn’t a perfect white. They bear the traces of dirt washed away long ago by the rain. The leather is creased where my feet repeatedly flex, where my powerful toes push me onwards.