Paper Dolls

Allison Marie Conway

In the black heat of early morning, I listen to the crickets as they chirp their buzzing symphony right outside my open window. The first day of autumn approaches and I want it more than anything. Bonfire smoke in my hair and chunky boots on my feet. To turn the page of the season of sticky madness and slide into a smoother, smoldering state of being.

It is still too dark out to see the outline of the majestic trees but I can hear them rustling in the wind. A cool pungent rain is moving in today and I could not be more ecstatic over it. I need the gray so badly I can taste it. Rain is such a glorious, replenishing thing. A dreary gloomy mood entire. I want it to fill me, all of me. Quench whatever this restlessness is inside.

There is writing to be done. Thereā€¦

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