By Leah Mendelsohn
Your mind is filled with trinkets and tinkers,
tying into words only spoken by drinkers,
your name is all over the walls and empty halls, leading to vines,
leading to gardens of wilting flowers where ‘she loves me, she loves me not’ is written on every petal.
A kettle is screaming waiting to be poured and served,
strings of steam pulling up from the cup,
a white button up with a velvet coat,
afloat on cloud 9 with a glass of red wine.
The poet mind is a place of messy pages and rages.
Leah Mendelsohn is 13 years old and goes to Amherst Regional Middle School. One thing she loves about Woven Word Young Writers is the atmosphere created where she knows she will get positive feedback. It’s somewhere where she can experiment with her writing.
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