Whittled Love

Hello Weekenders, 

This is a style I’ve been practicing. It’s completely different. It’s compact and sharp. I don’t think anyone has ever seen it, but I’m hoping I can perfect it.

He whittles away at a small piece of wood trying to make a knife with a knife.

He thinks of the girl that passed him earlier today in the market.

The wind blows hard with a gust that brings life into the bored and depressed.

The rocking chair swifts back and forth with little effort and smoothly does its passion.

The knife is almost done, and the boy almost has two knives. 

The girl from the market is trying on dresses with her mother.

She does not know the boy with two knives, and she never will.

The boy runs to the market like the wind that brought joy and happiness.

The market is empty with everyone participating in the act of socialization.

The glass that separates the boy and girl from dress shop and marketplace is silent.

He presses his face against the barrier, the girl in white looks back at him, but looks away.

He taps the glass like a fish in a bowl, and she sees him behind her in the mirror.

She looks away with no expression.

He drops the whittled knife at his feet.

The fish in the bowl is he, and she is tapping the glass.

Micah H.

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