Reid@YWP

Folk story,

Moon of doom, 

Soon bonds bloom, 

Color of glory, 

Storms roll on, 

Sword of story.

Flood on down, 

On a day with borrowed light,

warmth and comfort is found in the early night.

The day of the sun’s return,

Is dark and cold.

The only light in the sky-

are the soft stars that shy-

I live on Garey Road in Thetford, Vermont. It's a dirt road, and it has a dead end, which isn't too common around here. The road has another road coming off of it called Apple Tree Road, which is also dirt, and also a dead end.

I trace my fingertips over my skin,

Imagining everything going on within it:

Each little protein being made,

Each cell passing through my bloodstream.

Every strand of DNA is coiled up,

Making me up,

Beep-beep-beep! Finally! Wait- I need to get in the shower. I kick out of my sheets and claw through the depths of my dresser. I grab whatever clothes I think match in my dreary, early morning, teenage state of mind.