Yellow, stashed at the back.
White, forgotten in the sink.
Brown, tossed to the side all year.
Blue, from the bottom of a backpack.
Smooth and cold,
Like the air outside.
Fingers moving to
Kindergarten days.
Filling the crevices between fingers,
Flowing through the lines on my palm,
Sticking to nails like sand,
Snaking up my wrist,
Dotting stars across skin
And canvas,
Swirling like clouds in autumn:
A starry night.
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