by Women Writers of Alaska

Here and Now

I sit here at the big square table in one of my favoret classes today.

I sit here with less thoughts on my mind, this isn’t right.

I sit here now and my eyes can stop scanning.

I sit here and I count nine yellows, one blue, and one brown.

I sit in one of these eleven green lawn chairs that are so weak and flimsy.

I sit with my back slouched over, my face six inches from kissing the white sheet of paper with clueless word, make no sence.

I sit here and I now here the beautiful sounds and giggles coming out of the yellows

I sit here with a smile on my face then realize I’m not the only yellow that smiles.

I sit here and notice the room is cold.

I sit here in this chair, my nose can smell in the air and its 37min tell dinner.

I sit here as a 33 year old, once was a mother of three, once was wild and free, once was important and needed, once was this person used to be.

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