They come out as whispers and rolled eyes
I blink, and a rose blooms but no one notices
I hum, and life is found on a new planet
A melody is created but they only see me walk
They see my curves but not my angles
They see my face but not my messy gardens
With roses and thorns and diamonds
That grow from the warm soil like new ideas
(c) Copyright 2016 Julia Cirignano
Julia is a young, emerging writer from Boston Ma. She was homeschooled through high school and is now a senior at Endicott College.
Ms. Cirignano is a creative writing major, and a music minor.
Several of her articles were published by That Music Magazine and Limelight Magazine.
Lara loves photography and horseback riding.