Patchwork Ghost By Dylan Evans I am just a Patchwork Ghost, As opaque as I am transparent— I drift day-to-day, while some notice me, though others do not. I am both colorful and dull, worn, torn, and used to be loved— Shades of green, yellow, orange, and blues, Some love some of me, some hate some of me— And thus, I wander, not sad nor happy, not angry nor joyous, with all of my colors on display. For patchwork is made of scraps, but stitched with love, waiting for someone to sew new pieces to it
before the rest fade.
By Taylor Clayborn 22
