The Sounds of Stress
By Grace Hill
She longs for the sound of no sounds
Her soft, careful breath
Is cut short by the tearing, grinding, scraping of the lead
Excuse Me?
Her teacher says
Just another thing said to go in her head
Down the hall, she wanders some more
Just to find another door
Another item in her cart
Maybe she can find this part
A to-do list she keeps in her noggin
She wonders, if she can at least keep jogging
Through the path of blinding snow
Through the hike of hail she will go
Just to find another show
Another show of laughter and joy
Cackles and guffaws and giggling galore
She always finds something more
Something lost
Something new
Something that will make her blue
Something that might make her cry
Something that she’ll say goodbye
