A girl with a cold by Stephanie Skura

She is a girl with a cold, says the heater in the corner

And the tissues overflowing the trash;

An organized girl too, says the alphabetized books

In the wooden bookshelf; and a fun, quirky girl,

Says the dori jibbit on the purple croc

In the closet closed off by a door, stuck with years of wear and tear;

But not a girl with a talent for technology, says the broken printer

Laying under a pile of papers and the watch alarm that doesn’t quiet.

Once a field hockey player, says the banged up stick by the window

Dented with brown spots and peeled of paint

Wrapped in hockey tape, and she played softball,

Says the trophies on the shelf and the pictures behind them.

Family came first, says the pictures on the dressers

And dogs on the calendar that resemble those in the kitchen.

And the dry hands, say the limoncello lotion by the bed.

It was New England here, says the array of Jackets that cover every temperature.