By Maddy Braun, Age 12
I love how
the only sound
I hear
is your big, shiny laugh
through the audience.
At the roots
your hair is slightly grey
but the rest
is beautiful gold
and you wear it
like
a crown.
My head
grazes your shoulder
when I wear those
ridiculous blue-green pumps
that fit me
almost perfectly.
Please
you plead.
Please
massage my neck.
You drive me
completely insane,
but I know
that I probably do
the same
to you.
And
if I look hard enough
into the mirror,
I see myself
following closely
in the footsteps
you left behind.
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