The Dark-haired Girl, En Pointe, Sandy

En Pointe

The pink satin
The pink bows
The pink elastic
The pink toes
That squish inside in a tiny row

The beauty of youth
The thought of a tutu
On stage under lights
People clapping for you

The shoes are dance
And youth
And my life

A hidden meaning
Underneath the soft, satin skin
As smooth as paper
The puny, peculiar, pink strings
Are the tethers of love and dance

The tiny tears are pain
But the pretty
Perfect satin is love

Sandy

The whisper of the leaves rolling through the road
The distant roar of the crashing waves
The screaming wind in my ears
The solemn sound of silence

The blue sky stretches as far as the eye can see
The growing waves hiding the distant horizon
The sick feeling of fright and fear inside all of us
The overall air is solemn

The plunk of flags blowing in the wind
The squawk of the birds soaring above
The disturbing voice of anticipation inside of me
The low rumbling of a car driving by

The cool, crisp wind sweeping past my face
The left-over Halloween decorations billowing in the wind
The whistle of the train far off in the distance
The church bells ringing in my ear

The smell and taste of fear fill me
The voice of strength and bravery grows within me
The feeling of unity and love embraces me
The heartache sucks my soul from within me

I feel like a stain on a shirt
Like a lonely girl in a new school
Or a cat in a dog pound
Left out and scared and alone, but I am somehow united with my surroundings

The Dark-Haired Girl

The silhouette of the dark-haired girl is backed by the setting sun
Her brave brown eyes settle in on her book
While the rest of the world revolves around her
She sits by a window reading, mesmerized by Roald Dahl’s words

The car moves but she does not stir
Freckles speckle her nose, and lashes bat on her eyes
Her eyelashes are like tiny bat wings destruction all in their way
The reflections of city lights shine in her eyes

Night is coming and ending the day
But her eyes are hungry for more intelligence and understanding
Enrobed in purple, her gentle hand turns the breathing page
The sky blackens behind her but she is always open to more understanding

She in the polka dot pants is filled with love and not rage
The reflection of a distant bridge in her eyes is like a sky full of shooting stars
Her bushy eyebrows grow heavy with her emotions
The reflection on the page is of her shirt’s rhinestone stars

Her shoulders slump over as she reads the intriguing notions
Her seat belt tight against her shoulder makes her face tense up
Her steady breath is even as ever as her tired eyes are heavy
She lifts her head for the first time and her chest rises up

Claudia Chapman, Age 13, Grade 7, Convent of the Sacred Heart, Silver Key

This entry was written by NYC Scholastic Awards and published on December 10, 2013 at 10:00 am. It’s filed under Poetry, Writing. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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