Amanda & Nameless

Amanda

She still sits on the bedside table

After all these years

And all this wear.

A red gingham dress,

Faded from washes,

On a little plastic body.

The color on her fingers

Worn away long ago

From being pulled by the hand

Everywhere.

A faint “A,” written clumsily in purple ink

Still marks the bottom of her foot.

The signature of an overprotective

Five year old.

Only a few eyelashes are left.

They fell out, one by one,

As time passed by.

Her right eye is forever closed;

She was probably dropped at some point

That nobody can remember.

The other eye still winks.

It remembers.



Nameless

A painted smile.

Perfect white teeth

Contrast with evenly-tanned skin.

Her outfit is flawlessly kept,

A chichi green dress

That was the latest trend

Eight years ago.

It retains its pleats

And looks like she

Was just bought.

Even her nails are still bright pink.

Her long hair is brushed straight even now,

The platinum blonde object of desire

Of any little girl.

Her bright blue eyes shine.

Yet she stays in a box, barely touched,

Under a bed, or something.

Lost.

Forgotten.

Alicia Schleifman
Age 15, Grade 10,
The Dalton School
Gold Key

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