sarahopkins15
My shoes are new, shiny, converse. Perfect. But then I step in some mud. Then I think 'why not'? Then the sharpies come in. Paint lines the battle field. White-out, sure, what the heck? Shoes slowly wilt but I glob them with lines, words, patterns, pictures. Some call them old, crusty, but I call them loved.
Irish Spring is green and grandma-y. We have a lot of soaps in our bathroom. My dad uses Irish Spring. Does that mean my dad is grandma-y? I like the Nivea kind. It smells like Mango Tango Jamba Juice style. Yum.
"mwahahahahahaha!!!!" the dragon said. "Now. I've got you right where I want you!!!!" His eyes were burning flames and his ears turned red. Reminded me of a radish. He screamed "CHECKMATE!!!!!" I told him he should go in a salad.
Peering over the edge of the cup and saw that the tea was a bright honey color. Tea leaves, they were swirling around and I almost thought I could see my fortune in them. Gulp, gulp, gulp. Honey color runs down me. Slurp, slurp, slurp. Tea leaves fill me with wonder. I write a note on the tea bag so the waiter will find it like a fortune cookie.
Magenta like the cherry blossoms lining the street. Each day the breeze blows and all the petals go whoosh into the street, riding the gusts of wind and dancing above my head.
Red sneakers with purple laces. Balancing on the very edge of the cliff when all is calm. Just standing and looking. It's exhilarating to stand at the crumbly edge. I bound back so I don't fall. my sneaks take me.