All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
The Observer
I kneel, facing the window, on mama's old couch.
The yellow flowers are faded from the sun
and worn from countless children bouncing, sitting, jumping, figeting.
The springs squeak in a farmiliar way as I pull the gossamer curtains over my head.
They are cool and whispy on the back of my neck like water from the creek.
I watch the boys and girls playing in the street.
Their skin reflects the afternoon sun, creamy and unblemished. Mine is dark, etched with cuts and stamped with bruises from sleeping on the floor and fighting with my brothers.
The have sleek blond hair. Mine is black and knotted into course braids by mama's callused fingers.
Nikki says that they get play outside because their skin shines like the moon. I don't mind-I always liked chocolcate better anyways.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.