amateur poet, professional dreamer. child wearing a mask of maturity. allycalleja@gmail.com
A poem about dirt.
The kind that stains
hands,
Mother's carpets
and children's noses,
hoping it will one day
bloom roses in their cheekbones
daisies in their elbows
and forget-me-nots
in that white rug footprint
that got them grounded for a month.
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