Colour
Published in
1 min readMay 31, 2018
In the large bus,
the hustle, the unintentional touch,
the inadvertent bump.
She, the old lady
White hair the texture of cotton candy,
rolls her eyes and walks away.
A look of disdain and contempt meets only a look of bewilderment and incomprehension.
And she, the little girl,
the shattered piece of glass on the road,
that everyone semi-circles around,
but no one picks up.
She goes home, picks up an innocent eraser from her pencil case
and tries to rub the colour off of her face.