WINTER DUST

A cloudy first day back,

a useless Peer Mentorship meeting

on peer pressure.

Now, Yearbook.

I’m late.

Some lip-glossed girls say

the advisor was here to pick up

the sports pages, deadline today.

I look at the pile that’s half-done—

team pictures, no action shots,

players’ names, no font picked.

Picture my old self,

using all I have to fix this.

If only it were that easy.

The staff asks if they can just pick the fonts,

if they can use last year’s action pics,

I say whatever.

Winter dust coats the white office.

Like the streets and sky, it is graying too.

Who cares about capturing a present

that’s almost past?

Stars that look the brightest are

already dead and gone.