Author's Note: I'm not quite sure what this is, but it's random and I like it. I want feedback though, what do you think?
An apricot peach,
Kind of a dress,
Splattered with red drops.
And a news article,
Explaining the whole thing.
The kind of girl who makes fresh coffee just right,
Paired with a good old fashioned type writer kind of girl clacking away the the heat of a New York summer,
On the other hand,
She's out of lotion,
So she had to go to the store,
And somehow got distracted by the fine customer service employee,
Who suggested a different kind of lotion.
The new kind smelled like peaches,
Which reminded the good old fashioned type writer girl,
That she had to finish the story for her editor,
The kinda girl who makes fresh coffee just right.
It was hot,
The coffee and the city.
And the smells and sounds of the city seemed to intensify with every step,
Making it so overwhelmingly wonderful,
And just a bit too mundane.
They both had knee length black skirts on,
And sweaters over their nice,
White blouses,
Which were much too hot for the heat of the summer.
The editor scanned her first draft of the weekends paper with a sad sort of reverence,
Which held nothing but car accidents, political banter, and a burglary.
There actually was one lost pet ad too,
But it didn't take up that much space.
Her door burst open, and it revealed the other girl,
Who's flushed cheeks suggested that she ran all the way here,
Just to get the article in.
It was perfect,
Just needed a bunch of edits before tomorrow.
They sighed,
And both scribbled something on to-do lists,
Worn and faded from too much use.
The editor lit a cigarette,
And puffed a halo around the other girls head,
Which swirled so impatiently,
That the girl waved it away from her head,
Trying to act casual.
She said some words,
Of no importance,
And walked out of the office,
Down the block,
And back to her good old fashioned type writer.
There,
On her chair,
Was a note scrawled in a messy,
Adventurous hand,
Which made the girl smile,
And she folded it away,
To read over and over again at a later time,
When the sun was too hot,
And she had nothing better to do.
An apricot peach,
Kind of a dress,
Splattered with red drops.
And a news article,
Explaining the whole thing.
The kind of girl who makes fresh coffee just right,
Paired with a good old fashioned type writer kind of girl clacking away the the heat of a New York summer,
On the other hand,
She's out of lotion,
So she had to go to the store,
And somehow got distracted by the fine customer service employee,
Who suggested a different kind of lotion.
The new kind smelled like peaches,
Which reminded the good old fashioned type writer girl,
That she had to finish the story for her editor,
The kinda girl who makes fresh coffee just right.
It was hot,
The coffee and the city.
And the smells and sounds of the city seemed to intensify with every step,
Making it so overwhelmingly wonderful,
And just a bit too mundane.
They both had knee length black skirts on,
And sweaters over their nice,
White blouses,
Which were much too hot for the heat of the summer.
The editor scanned her first draft of the weekends paper with a sad sort of reverence,
Which held nothing but car accidents, political banter, and a burglary.
There actually was one lost pet ad too,
But it didn't take up that much space.
Her door burst open, and it revealed the other girl,
Who's flushed cheeks suggested that she ran all the way here,
Just to get the article in.
It was perfect,
Just needed a bunch of edits before tomorrow.
They sighed,
And both scribbled something on to-do lists,
Worn and faded from too much use.
The editor lit a cigarette,
And puffed a halo around the other girls head,
Which swirled so impatiently,
That the girl waved it away from her head,
Trying to act casual.
She said some words,
Of no importance,
And walked out of the office,
Down the block,
And back to her good old fashioned type writer.
There,
On her chair,
Was a note scrawled in a messy,
Adventurous hand,
Which made the girl smile,
And she folded it away,
To read over and over again at a later time,
When the sun was too hot,
And she had nothing better to do.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.