The air smells like dimes,
I have pencil shavings for pocket liners
And my jacket is covered in snow stains,
I think I am in love.
I have pencil shavings for pocket liners
Wrinkled fingers pull at the hem
I think I am in love.
I’ve left a trail of footprints in my wake.
Wrinkled fingers pull at the hem,
looking for a change
I’ve left a trail of footprints in my wake.
My knuckles don’t quite meet your door.
Looking for a change,
I close my eyes to better see.
My knuckles don’t quite meet your door.
Every exhale is frozen in time
Flurries are stirred in a whirlwind
And my jacket is covered in snow stains
Too much time has passed,
The air smells like dimes.
Morgan Almasy is a junior creative writing major at her high school. She has twice attended the creative writing summer camp at Interlochen Center for the Arts. Almasy has previously been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing awards and has been awarded Gold Keys, Silver Keys, and Honorable Mentions at the regional level. Almasy has previously been published in Moledro Magazine, Blue Marble Review, and Literary Orphans magazine. She hopes to pursue a double major in marketing and creative writing in college.