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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1285571
Something I wrote in 8th grade, back in the day.
The snow crunches under me and no one's listening.
The sound of cars on the freeway always comforts me
even when I have the worst of headaches.

When I get home, there is no one to listen to.
I sit in my father's recliner and wonder where life went.

"Out to lunch, be back in a few hours."

Now my ear itches, but I don't dare scratch it.


I wonder what life had for lunch...
© Copyright 2007 Heather D. (gorgotron at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1285571-freestyle-vagueness