• Brianna White

Lost For Words

The rain poured heavily upon me,

my black umbrella my only source

of shelter as the rain washed away

all that was left in its care.

Children’s chalk drawings,

large piles of fall leaves—

the careful calligraphy

etched in black inside

a curiously abandoned journal.

Heartfelt confessions, tragedies,

and daily routines,

now nothing more

than blotches of ink

between soaked pieces of paper.

Documents of memories

now literally fading away.

I wonder how one could lose

something so precious.

Maybe they left it in an attempt

to rid themselves of it.

Hopefully in old age

the writer will recall the

stories that shaped them.

Living within this

forgotten vessel.




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