Rain drops patter against the window only
Slightly anchoring me into the plane of
What’s real, what’s not and what’s next.
I’m chilled, cooled, but less inclined to
Wear my jacket because of the way it
Wraps around me, making me feel too tight
And too loved and sometimes I just need to
Feel alone to appreciate that sometimes
I am not alone. My stomach is empty, I think,
And my mind wanders to what I will eat next.
But am I hungry for food or for something
Magical? Do I need some fries or some
Monumental, earth shattering event to show
I’m different from everyone and everything
And I, I am magical. I am mystical. I’m not
Constrained by this mortal realm.
What if. What if. What if.
What if I not only got fries, but a milkshake, too?

About the Author

Amber Pierson is currently study Creative Writing at TC3. She loves writing poetry and has a few close ties with her teachers at TC3, helping she write more and better.